Shape of Magic
by Jinx333
Summary: Twenty-five-year-old Yona is a single mom and her whole life revolves around her daughter and her job, which involves many drawings of James Potter (aka: The Potter Prince/Mr. Nobody Really). Imagine her surprise when Mr. Nobody Really turns around to be...somebody? James x OC
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Harry Potter!

 **Yona's POV:**

A prince should always arrive on time. It's a fact I've often contemplated—scribbled in the masses of storyboards and drawings that made my job mine. Hair artfully waving in the wind amidst a breathtaking background of green and gold, silver and endless skies, and the grains of a broomstick front in center.

Too bad I did not believe in what I wrote. It would do well for people to think before acting—after all, Prince Charming is not someone to remain idle. Prat was probably stumbling around lost in his own head or trousers, tripping over his sword, and being kicked by his white horse. Putting Fairytales in mind, I knew that the bad guy and Prince Charming weren't far apart in character. They could be one in the same person.

"Who is he?" My five-year-old daughter asked me without words—her conversation spouted via sign language directly in my face.

I had been flipping through a magazine, which had James Potter attractively posed on the front with the lastest Montrose Magpies fan merchandise.

Slamming it shut, I signed back, "No one, really." Shie threw me a sassy 'yeah right' look before I sighed and ran a hand through my disastrous braid. "Are you ready for school?" I calmly signed, resisting irritation at my lack of coffee at 6:30am. After a long moment of consideration, I shoved the magazine featuring drool-worthy James Potter into my bag. Shit, it was going to be a long day. And boy did I need to get la- I mean destress soon.

Mikasa, the clever little whirlwind standing in front of me, nodded and checked her hearing aid. Shoveling the last bite of cereal in her mouth, she skipped off to brush her teeth while I grabbed her backpack for daycare.

After placing our dishes from breakfast in the sink and straightening my blouse, I searched for my child in our minuscule apartment. We were so running late today.

Shite. Shite. Shite. The watch on my wrist was screaming out 7:15am, while the train comes at 7:30am. According to the pouting slowpoke shuffling behind me, we weren't going to make it. Damn it; we would if I had anything to do with it, I argued in my head. I could not deal with the snotty expression on my boss's face if I were to be late again today.

"Maaa," Mikasa whined entirely too loudly directly into my ear canal as I hauled her onto my back and began to jog towards the station. Of course, it began to rain because why not, right? Oh sweet mother of Hufflepuff, why does God hate me?

Refusing to allow Mikasa to get sick, I deposit her under the shelter of the convenience store, dished out the rain poncho from her backpack, and shove it over that tiny body before resuming our piggyback marathon morning.

By the time we make it to the station, I am soaked and hella cranky as I push back the hood of Mikasa's poncho. I really needed to purchase a car.

Now was so not the time to dolly, though. Please, Merlin stop that train from leaving for two more minutes. I beg of you.

By some Christmas miracle come early, we made it and I permitted myself to slump down into the seat for our five minute commute downtown. Consumed in staring down at my watch to calculate how much time I could realistically book this arse to the office on time clutching a needed cup of coffee, I barely felt the slight nudges being delivered to the right side of my rib cage.

"What?" My hands signed with the outward patience of a saint.

"Mr. Nobody Really?" I blinked for a hot second, casually wondering if I'm hallucinating my daughter gesture to the man in a crimson and gold jumper with the hood up.

Even if he had the outward appearance of a hoodlum, anyone could deduce his attractiveness. He was also wearing a pair of specs... and shadyly glancing around as if expecting someone to jump out and yell 'Boo.' Noticing the intense focus on the features of his face, the man tensed up.

Before I could start in on her not pointing at strangers, nevertheless adult men, she rolled her eyes and dug into my backpack. My backpack!

As she smacked the magazine cover in my face, I groaned quietly wishing just once for a peaceful morning. Little brat—who I love dearly, I might add—didn't even bat an eyelash when I clenched the paper cut now located on my nose.

Then I have to lunge for her when she decided to waltz on over to the unknown, slightly sketchy man. It's probably a surprise—well, perhaps not really—but my slow morning movements didn't catch that skinny, five-year-old frame. Instead my hands caught air, whilst I grasped towards my child like a lunatic kneeling on the public transit floor searching for a phantom.

Unfairly frozen; all I could do was watch as she walked over to the man, pursued the magazine cover, appeared to briefly consider the consequences of her actions, before yanking on the jumper of a complete stranger. It was like I was not witnessing the actions of my actually child, rather experiencing nightmare where the sweet, quiet girl was ransacked and replaced with a demon. Okay, perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration but the terrible twos were nothing compared to this insanity. And it wasn't even 7:30am yet.

"Gomen nasai," I apologized in Japanese for some damn reason unbeknownst to me, stumbling forwards and gathering Mikasa's body into my own. Refusing to make eye contact with the sketchy man, I began lecturing my daughter about the dangers of strangers and kidnapping in sign language. The man awkwardly coughed to my right, ceasing my furious signing before Mikasa proudly signed back.

"I told you it was Mr. Nobody Really."

My whole body stiffened, as though I made contact with Petrificus Totalus. Today was not my day.

Slowly...slowly (said the sloth), I turned and settled my eyes on proclaimed Mr. Nobody Really, who's hazel eyes warily gleamed behind a pair of specs.

Cautiously, he glanced around at the other passengers, whom were most likely Quidditch fans, and held a finger to his lips.

With a sigh, I hugged my child towards me and wished it was not only Monday. Meanwhile, I tried to ignore the fact that the small hands in front of my face were signing at me to ask for Mr. Nobody Really's number.

And all before 7:45am. Oh Helga Hufflepuff.


	2. Instruction of Sorts

**Yona's POV:**

I do not have time to wait on Prince Charming—my time is quite limited and my showers are always too short. If anything, people should really take notes on the fact that farm and forest animals completed chores in those Fairytales. Even with magic, that leaves me flabbergasted; where can I get some of those?

"Goo morn maa!"

I nearly collapsed onto the floor when Mikasa jumped onto my back. The swivel chair underneath me rocked unsteadily—like a fragile sapling battling against a tornado.

Quite a pretty picture I was in my position, where I'd passed out cheek smashed against my laptop keyboard. Mimosas this early in the morning sure would be lovely.

"Mika," I groaned at the sight of her dancing on the small pile of papers spread across the floor. Five more minutes...my drowsy eyelids slid shut. After a moment, my eyes flashed back to the scene and I hurriedly signed, "Freeze!"

She stopped the joyful shuffling and bending forward I hoisted her up on my hip before grasping at the forms for my office storyboard. A few of the pages had creased considerably, a rough sketch of James Potter wielding the newest model broomstick torn at the edge on the right side. I had worked at Mr. Nobody Really's image all damn night for this disaster to occur. Lovely.

"Maa," Mikasa's tone-deaf voice sounded brittle and tears were welling up. Her fist half-looped against the center of her chest, "Sorry."

"Come here, baby." I held out my arms for an embrace, squeezed her tightly, and signed "please be careful."

She nodded with a sniffle. Her movements were quiet as she went back to her room, then ran back out asking where her favorite shirt was residing. Lucky for me it was a duplicate of my Hufflepuff jumper so a shrinking spell managed to advert that crisis. A much needed laundry marathon was needed soon.

Finishing breakfast in record time, I found Mikasa balancing my phone in one hand and scribbling on paper with the other. Thankfully she wasn't doing anything crazy, simply studying my cells contact information.

"Does your teacher want you to practice my phone number again?" I casually asked with my hands, then drank from my mug.

The shit-eating grin that child sent me nearly caused me to spill my coffee. When I signed, "What?" her head simply refused to answer, as her fist scribbled on the page with a red crayon. Scary.

An hour later I tightened her jacket and looked her in the eye as I signed and muttered simultaneously, "Miss Lun is going to pick you up today, so behave." And don't let her try anything weird on you, I added. "Mommy has to go out with heathens—err work friends."

"Okay," she signed back, skipping along beside me. We arrived at the station earlier today—that in itself should have been a heavy omen hovering above as we waited for the train to arrive. An easily entertained Mikasa was happily wiggling against my side, watching a favorite video with the subtitles on and oblivious to the world.

"Hi there," A husky voice murmured next to my ear. By reflex my hands pushed Mikasa behind me, far away from whomever this person morphed to be, potential creep or not. Thankfully, the middle aged man in a suit didn't seem to notice her.

Unfortunately, I also processed the leering look on his face and deduced that he was a creep.

"Married?" He pressed as I continued to ignore him.

Avoiding eye contact must have been a tactic that this man did not understand. He leaned closer to my face and a flinch crossed my features before I could help it.

Damn. This was going to cause a scene if I jammed my foot up his arse.

"Sorry I'm late," a rich, deep voice invaded my thoughts the moment I planned on kneeing the sketchy man—whose breath hit my face—in the groin. Was I about to deal with another creep? "I got caught up" the voice of a random stranger continued.

Um, what? And then I finally decided to turn my attention toward the new addition to our party.

With an unyielding amount of surprise—strongly note sarcasm—Mr. Nobody Really was a repeat offender on the morning train. And he decided today was the day to speak to me or more like at me, as well as secure an arm around my shoulders. Hell hath frozen over?

At this point, my only response was to stare blindly at James Potter like a fish out of water—mindlessly flopping around with mouth ajar.

Oh great bleeding hearts unite, the train had not even arrived yet. We are never leaving this early again, I'll swear to it. Break my wand into pieces and stab my arse with a fork.

I clenched my daughter from behind me, preparing for the worst in how this man, who I'd fallen asleep drawing on numerous broomsticks and Quidditch gear, was smiling sunnily down at me. He once again sported the hood and glasses look, which is not very original if you ask me.

"I hope you didn't wait long, sweetheart." And then he grasped my hand, slowly inched it towards his lips, and placed a kiss in the center of my palm. Swee...theart?

My memory completely fried for a moment. Instead of a proper objection or insult, an awkward squawking sound was what released from my mouth. Honestly. I needed to get out more.

Meanwhile, James Potter in disguise raised his eyebrows at me like I'm a specific brand of deranged. Whatever, as long as it's chocolate flavored.

"Oi." A hand wrapped around my shoulder, pressing me near to a broad chest. "Back off. She's my girlfriend."

Auditory hallucination? I must has muttered the comment out loud because James chuckled lightly, making my heart-rate ramp up a few notches.

Also, girlfriend?! Did he take a bludger to the head during a recent practice? Perhaps, I should kick them both. Regardless of game or fortune, the two men were strangers to me.

"I wasn't trying anything!" The man, who had inquired about my status of my left hand, immediately backed away, waving his hands around in surrender. "Honest, just thought...uh. Never mind."

Through narrowed eyes, I watched the man practically sprint to the other side of the station. Extremely challenging to do so in a suit.

"What was that?" The arm around my shoulders dropped.

"A rather unfortunate series of events," I replied staring in the distance, noting that he was still holding my hand. The hand he had kissed. Those soft lips... Wake up, Yona! Control yourself, honestly.

Mikasa hugged me from behind and I immediately flicked James' hand away—as though I had caressed a bed of hot coals. Goodness... Where is that train? I wondered, calmly smoothing down Mikasa's ebony ringlets as she clung to my side.

Poke. Poke. Poke. Big brown eyes mirrored my reflection—tired eyes and messy hair bunched together into a bun. "Look," Mikasa quietly signed, then pointed at James Potter.

I nodded the classic 'Uh-huh, yes darling' response and tried to lead her towards the train. Fucking finally.

Settled into our seats for the brief commute, I sighed sleepily and turned towards my daughter only to find her missing. It was like being stuck with a needle. Boy oh boy was I awake now, and so proceeded my morning ritual of lunging for a five-year-old.

You would seriously think that I would be in better shape based on this frequent occurrence. Well, at least the lunging part—not the fact that my daughter hands paper notes to random strangers on public transit. That stuff just does not happen everyday.

Wait... Isn't that the paper Mikasa had been practicing my number o-

"Oh god!" I snatched the paper, which had my cell number scribbled on it in bright red crayon, from his hands. Mikasa had the audacity to merely grin back at me when I stared at her accusingly.

"Trouble," I calmly signed to her whilst my mind screamed numerous obscenities.

"Was that for me?" James tilted his head attempting to see what was written on the paper. The nearness of his body filled my head with his scent. God he smelled good. Why did he have to smell so good?

I crumpled the paper in my hand, shoved it in my bag, and pointed for Mikasa to sit down beside me. When I feel him lean against the wall next to us, I perused him.

In the flesh, I had not seen James Potter since Hogwarts and we'd always been from different walks of life. What kind of Quidditch celebrity takes public transit anymore?

"What does she mean?"

I had been staring, taking in how much he'd grown up; both in terms of his voice as well as his physical appearance. Turning my head to look at Mikasa, she was busy signing "Hello" and introducing herself to Mr. Nobody Really.

Blinking again it a moment for his question to sink and my face flushed, answering quickly, "She's saying hello. Also, she wants to know your real name."

"Real name?"

"As opposed to Mr. Nobody Really," I answered without pause or consideration.

He laughed quite a bit.

"Tell her I'm a prince," he finally said, grinning cheekily and waving to Mikasa. This prat...

"Not happening," I rolled my eyes, but smiled as I thought, 'Maybe I should tell her he's a space alien.' My my, I'm a bad mother sometimes.

He angled himself towards me with an amused grin, his hand on his hip. "Ah, come on." He leaned forward to whisper low near my ear. "She already knows my name from the magazine cover, eh?"

"Why did you come over here?" My hand affectionately pushed the hair back from Mikasa's eyes as she slumped against me sleepily. Girl could fall asleep in a second flat; one moment she's spastically waving and the next out like a light.

Huh. Potter must have bored her.

"Uhh. My feet just took me here?"

Thankfully, I was spared by the gods this time because our train arrived at the downtown station. A quick peek at my watch and we were still early.

"Baby, you're getting to be a sack of bricks." I pushed sleeping Mikasa on my back, blew the hair out of my eyes, and walked off.

An hour later, after prepping the story board with James Potter sketched on the proposal, I realized I never looked to see if Mr. Nobody Really got off behind me.

"Yo! Yona! You going to the team drinks party tonight?"

I cringed. "Yeah. Yeah. I managed to get a sitter tonight." Happy happy...joy joy.

 **A/N:**

I don't own Harry Potter!

Thank you everyone who has silently read the first chapter! Review please!

A sneak peak for next chapter:

"Hey," Mr. Nobody Really grinned at me with a sexy glint in his eyes. "Wanna dance?"

A tilted gaze over at the bar found a group of guys with Fred Weasley dead center. All of them diverted their eyes when I looked their way—real smooth. "How much is the bet?"


	3. Your Name

**James' POV:**

Life is not a fairy tale. Over and over again, I had experienced the Princess falling all over herself to get to me for undesirable, frightening reasons that didn't impress me one bit. In fact, the interactions with the unfathomable fakeness of 'Princesses' often induced nausea.

It made me want to throw the damn glass slipper at each and every one of them.

"I'm not doing that," my lips hovered over the mug of butterbeer. It should have been anticipated that coming out here tonight would be a bloody nightmare.

"Come on Jem Jem," A baked Freddie sang off-key, pointing to the front entrance. "The next girl to come out from behind those doors. Behind those wooden frames hides an enigma!"

My eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. Why couldn't he be the mellow weedhead?

"That's the loo, Freddie. Not much of an enigma." The last situation I needed to be in was the presence of a crazed fan girl. Again.

Circumstances were not like popularity at Hogwarts, instead the threats echoed eerily. Like who even thinks to stalk the floo network schedule? The answer...apparently, a woman in her early twenties with a plot to chain me to a bed and have me father her children.

Yes; I did say children, as in the plural form. Like I noted earlier, it is frightening.

No wonder my urges to date women had left me.

Freddie flicked my forehead. Ow.

"The loo is nothing to sniff at," Freddie beamed clasping my shoulder tightly. Raising an eyebrow at his words, I didn't have the heart to tell him we were at a disagreement. And no one wants to sniff a loo—male, female, transgendered, or otherwise. Gross. As I considered the sentiment, Freddie flicked my forehead again leaving me stingy.

Rubbing my forehead in annoyance, I fixed my cousin with a heated glare. "Stop that already."

"What about her," Freddie pointed out, completely ignoring my previous protests. "She doesn't seem like she would handcuff you to a bed."

I raised my eyebrows, mildly intrigued. When my eyes snagged on the woman in question, my eyebrows practically touched my hairline.

I did a double take as well, scrunching up my eyebrows and gazing over at her.

There was no way it was her.

"Do you know who she is?" I demanded, curiousness clawing at my brain.

Freddie squinted longer than necessary at the woman from the train, appeared to have a lightbulb moment, and then banged his head against the table. All of which would have proven to be a bad sign if this wasn't normal behavior for Freddie.

Merlin, I should know better than to ask him serious questions like this when he's far too baked. Thankfully he didn't start licking the table...this time.

Deciding to leave my cousin to his own devices, I scanned the crowd of people in the club again until finding her. She had not screamed out his presence on the train, or tried to cuddle up to him after seeing through his lame disguise. Actually, this woman sort of ignored and went out of her way to be a little bit rude to him.

Even calling her his girlfriend and kissing her hand to get that creep to go away had only a slight affected her. That light blush dusting across her cheeks had been ridiculously charming.

And what had she called him? Oh yeah, Mr. Nobody Really. Unlike any of his other interactions with non-family related women, it was interesting. He'd even attempted to flirt with her a bit this morning, but she had slashed the line he had cast out.

Being a certified idiot, I had even validated the little girl's suspicions at being James Potter. After all, I'd all but shouted my identity into that woman's ear to melt away any morsel doubt.

Imagine my surprise when she mumbled under her breath that she'd rather acknowledge me as a space alien, instead of a Prince.

'Good golly Nana Molly, this woman is adorable,' I had thought—a smile splitting onto my face.

She also seemed to be fiercely protective of the quiet yet intensely forceful little girl curled against her side. It was endearing.

Above all, it made me wonder what was written on that paper she had snatched from my hand this morning.

Godric, that woman could lunge—as though her career was that of a gymnast or fencer. Completely diverged from the crisp office getup that adorned her body—but damn it she could work the office look in a beautiful way.

Clearly this woman didn't believe I was a Prince—regardless of what the tabloids spouted. Truthfully, she gave off the impression that she was not in need of a prince—nor did she appear to seek it, like ever.

Perhaps Freddie was correct for once because from behind those wooden doors of the loo, an interesting enigma of a woman arrived. For the second time that day my feet moved on their own accord, sliding my way out of the leather seat with my eyes on the bar.

"He's actually going to do it?!"

"Alright, Jamesy!" I cringed at their comments, momentary ignorance of their suggestions from earlier invading my mind. Shite. With my left hand, I flipped them off.

I wanted to talk to this woman on my own terms.

 **Yona's POV:**

Personally, I cannot dance to save my life so it's perfectly understandable how Cinderella lost her glass slipper. If it were me in her position the fragile, most likely uncomfortable choice of footwhere would have shattered way before the strike of midnight.

Also, if I stumbled home sans a shoe tonight—the conclusion would definitely be that I got way too drunk. So yeah, the closest thing I'd get to Cinderella's character would be accidentally walking on broken glass.

Unfortunately that sort of occurrence appeared to be the norm in this place.

A majority of the office team was out on the dance floor, wiggling around like teenagers and I refused to be nicknamed something humiliating if I were to join in. It was one thing to walz around the apartment with Mikasa and completely another to engage in this douchebaggery.

So I had myself a glass of wine, followed by another, and another. You probably get the idea where this is heading—a relaxing buzz sans of any broken glass. However that apparently quickly decided to change into a hallucination of Mr. Nobody Really (aka: James Potter) waving cheerfully at me.

"Hey there," Mr. Nobody Really grinned at me with a sexy glint in his eyes. "Wanna dance?"

I glance over at the bar and find a group of guys with Fred Weasley in the center. All of them diverted their eyes when I looked their way—real smooth. "How much is the bet?"

"There's no bet," he responded, tilting his head side to side in consideration. "Not for me, at least. They're just idiots."

"I don't dance," I said, folding my arms across my chest. As I previously pointed out, I cannot dance.

"Really? Then you're the same as me. Shall we?" He offered his hand, looking like the image of a perfect gentleman.

"What? Shall we what?"

"Dance," he grinned down at me, hand still awaiting me. This man must have lost his damn mind.

"No," I politely refused, turning my back to him in order to face the bar and ordered another glass of wine. "And didn't you just say you can't dance?"

"I said I don't dance," he emphasized widening his hazel eyes. "Not that I cannot dance."

I sighed, feeling too old for this shite.

"No good? Alright then, how about we chat?" He grinned at me, casually dropping into the vacant seat next to me. How utterly convenient.

"You're a persistent one," I observed, sipping the drink in my hand. When would Prince Charming morph back into a frog?

He looked directly at me for a moment before leaning toward me, amping up the charms I'd presume. Too bad I'd drawn that exact look on advertising storyboards for years, basically insinuating I could design the exact smolder expression that would make my toes curl in pleasure. The current charming look etched on Mr. Nobody Really's face wasn't making the cut. No matter how much I desired for sex.

"Can I ask you something?" My goodness he smells nice. Did I draw out the advertising piece for whatever scent he's wearing?

"You just did," I smirked at the slight pout on his face. "Three questions."

"Five," he argued as though his life was at stake.

"Two," I teasingly lowered, anticipating his displeasure as I drank deeply.

"You said three before," he whined pitifully and grinned. "Two and a dance."

"How is that in my favor exactly?" Can't I just call it a night and go home to my yoga pants with chocolate Pocky between my lips, already? Not to mention I could actually read what I wanted to without worrying over Mikasa being too quiet in her room. Wait...without Mikasa I'll have non-interrupted alone time with my vibrat—

Tipping back the rest of my drink, I stood up and decided, "Let's get this hallucination over with."

James sent me a look like I just suggested that he'd eat my big toe. Well, I never pretended to be a princess. If anything I would be the dragon in the story—burning shite that gets too close to my egg.

"The dance," I figured he was a handsome bloke so what the hell, and I was decidedly buzzed enough not to care anymore. If it meant I'd get back home quicker than so be it.

"R-right," he stuttered out and slightly flushed. James seemed to correct himself after a moment, cleared his throat and laced his hand with mine.

"I'm not lying when I said I don't dance," I supplied helpfully, feeling a looseness in my tongue. "Actually, it's more that I cannot dance. I'll probably step on your toes."

Finally making it to the dance floor, I watched his mouth moving, but I didn't care much about what he was saying. This certainly was not good.

He got close, leaning in so that I could hear him above the blaring music. Mmmm...he smelled nice.

"What's your name?"

I blinked up at him stupidly, getting drunk on so many levels. Teasing him a bit, I pressed a finger to my lips like he did the other day on the train and spelled out my name in sign language.

It was slightly a test of how serious he was taking all of this, or if I was just some game for him. We always want what we cannot have kind of circumstance, or if this was some joke.

His arm twirled me around once, unwillingly drawing a light laugh from my lips. James' eyes contained so much intensity as his fingers grazed down my arms, until his hands burned into each of my wrists and wrapped them slowly around his neck. It was a deliberate, unhurried action—allowing me to protest or take control.

But the look on his face as he leaned in closer to speak into my ear mirrored the toe curling pleasure of an expression I'd described earlier. Merlin help me.

"I'm sorry I don't know sign language, love." Pleasurable shivers coursed from the hot breath in my ear and down my spine. "But I'll learn."

The moment fizzled out when I stepped on his foot.

"I did warn you," I groaned, swaying lightly in his arms.

One of his hands strayed from my waist to curl around my bun, tugging lightly until the wildness of my hair became unconfined. Yet another toe curler for the books, Yona.

"That's alright," his husky voice murmured, pressing his body firmly against mine. "Maybe with more practice?"

"Huh?" The question hung in the air as the song ended. I pulled myself away from James Potter—our eyes locked and an infectious smile began to form on his lips.

"How about a date then?"

I was glad for the low lighting of the club because there was a ferocious blush spreading across my cheeks.

"Errr," my mouth erupted awkwardly. A date? He was a Quidditch star for Merlin's sake! In comparison, I barely had a steady life and my time was constantly consumed. No no no.

And Mikasa... My world revolved around her, keeping her safe and...there was no fucking way I was placing her near celebrity spotlight. My dedication for her to grow and have a good life came first and foremost.

Peeling myself away from his delicious scent and warmth, I fixed him with a flat expression. He had to be joking.

My heart slammed against my chest painfully and I decided to walk away. A little hurt flashed in his hazel eyes, but he recovered quickly. "Goodbye, Mr. Nobody Really."

 **James' POV:**

We were getting ready to leave when I noticed a familiar figure sitting on the stone wall bordering the flower gardens across the street. The woman swung her bare feet—representing the image of relaxed with a hint of immaturity.

Squinting closely, I recognized the wild hair that fell down her shoulders. Didn't she leave ages ago?

"I forgot something. Go on without me," I waved away Freddie and our group before jogging over to her. A smile was already spreading broadly on my face.

Trying my best not to startle her, I approached her from the side. Her right hand was up and she seemed to be studying it intently. What was she doing?

"I got the storyboard finish, and the laundry..." Her fingers ticked off the tasks with an obvious slur to her words. Wait, is she drunk?

"Wow. You look sort of unsteady," I commented, watching her body sway from side to side on the wall. It wasn't a far way down, yet parts of her would definitely bruise if she fell.

At my observation, she swiveled her body towards me with a relaxed smile. "You!" And then she laughed and laughed before returning to what sounded like her grocery list. "Milk, eggs, those cookies Mika likes..."

She stopped, visibly tensing her whole body. "What's wrong? Did you forget the cookies?" I joked and scratched the back of my neck, genuinely curious.

Instead of answering my question, she clumsily maneuvered her way down the wall and sat down on the ground. Not a big deal, right? However, she faced the stone wall and huddled in a tight ball—meanwhile her aura noticeably darkened.

"Err, did you hurt yourself?" A quick survey of her body didn't locate any imminent injuries or the like.

"I never could ride a broomstick," she moaned dramatically, waving her arms around before dropping her frame flat to the ground like a deflated beach ball. "Never!"

Fuckin hell, she's cute. Many a time, I'd experienced women drunk and crying all over me. None like this, though.

"A broomstick?" A frown creased my mouth as I crouched down in front of her.

Darling, I could teach you to ride a broomstick. There was so many positions to navigate after all... Oooh, naughty James. You're mum would be very disappointed.

"A broomstick!"

Alright, fuckin hell. "What are you talking about?"

She continued to be unresponsive to my questioning and babbled against the wall, "That's right and I never did get a cat either. What kind of witch am I?"

"A cat?" I didn't think it was possible for my smile to grow.

"That's right," she started sounding somewhat distracted. "Luna lets us play with her kitty-cats. I think that if I had an older— she'd be like Lun." Older sister? Aunt? Mom? I questioned, holding back my amusement. "Isn't that a funny name—kitty-cat."

Okay, she is definitely quite drunk.

"You going to tell me your name, beautiful?"

She ignored me.

"Look! There there, its Lord Voldeymart!" She insistently pointed behind me.

Resisting a laugh, I kept my eyes on her. Tears were entering my eyes from how hilarious this woman was and it was killing me that I didn't know her name.

"Ahhh, come on. Why didn't you even look? You're no fun," she smiled with a snort. Maybe I didn't believe it because you didn't say Lord Voldemort's name correctly? Or because my dad killed him years ago? You know, those sort of reasons.

I laughed; this has got to be one of the best days I've had lately. Suddenly, I sensed some movement from the corner of my eye and a flash of a camera. Damn it.

Grabbing her hand, I whispered, "We've got to go."

 **A/N:**

I don't own Harry Potter!

My goodness I've been on a roll with this story. Thank you for the wonderful reviews and views so far! It's much appreciated.

What do you think of the progression? I'll be explaining more on Yona's job next chapter, so I apologize if there is any confusion about her working as basically a Wizarding World graphic designer.

Review please!

Sneak peak for next chapter:

Hallucination? I mentally slapped my cheeks. Nope, hoodlum man in glasses (aka: James Potter, space alien, Mr. Nobody Really) is still holding my daughter by the hand. That girl's going to get kidnapped someday.

Deep breaths, Yona. Deep breaths.


	4. Potter Prince and the Radish Fairy

I don't own HP! Also, Thank you for your patience!

 **Yona's POV:**

My mother used to compare me to a fish, constantly smothered in wetness with tiny ripples from the lake lulling my body. It was a drowsy lullaby—one that I held very close to my heart.

Currently I would donate my left kidney for that noiseless submersion again. What...I have two of them smushed inside my body, right?

"Did you hear about James Potter rendezvousing with some rando girl last night?" Jenna—the gossip queen—from the accounting department tapped her pen noisily against my desk.

Now I know what you're probably thinking; why the hell would I be talking about my drunken escapade with Mr. Nobody Really to the gospel queen of gossip?

Huh, gospel queen of gossip... I repeated the words; could I say that out loud ten times fast, or would it be a challenging tongue twister? Perhaps I'll try it again later at home.

"Hmmm," the unenthused voice of my team member responded, the disinterest clear in his tone.

Oh right, I got off topic before—Jenna wasn't speaking to me, obviously.

"Color me surprised," Charles Yaxley commented sounding anything but surprised as Jenna carried on the one-sided conversation. If Jenna knew one tidbit about good-old Charles, she would be able to read his body language like a fresh, crisp piece of parchment.

"I know, right?!" Jenna squawked, thrusting out her chest and flipping a strand of her long auburn hair. Girl was trying WAY too hard.

The woman shamelessly sat her tiny, aerobic firm arse on the side of my desk, barely containing the utter glee she had misinterpreted from Charles.

Poor Jenna needed to get a clue that this man refused to pick up what she was throwing down.

Tap. Tap. Damn it all to hell, I would help her find that clue if she does not cease movement with that pen. Hangovers were the absolute worst.

Affected by her new proximity, the cloyingly nauseating perfume she was wearing infiltrated my sensitive nose.

"Fucking hell," I mumbled allowing my forehead to press against the keyboard in front of me.

"What's wrong with her?" The fierceness of her glare drilled into my skull, poker hot as that pen increased it's annoying clicking.

Charles ignored Jenna's irritated tone and stopped whatever he was working on. "Rough night, darling?"

"Last night I had some problems with a man," my voice cryptically stated. I made serious eye contact with Charles' mirthful cyan ones.

"Don't you have a child," Jenna exclaimed shrilly, emphasizing child like I embraced a flesh-eating virus on a daily basis. So not cool.

Charles knew Jenna had crossed a line with that one—sensing blood shed in the water.

"Alright." He stood up, flashed Jenna a dazzling smile, and strode long legs over the span of our office to opened the door wide. "Out, Jenna dear."

We waited for the huff of cattiness to vanish the room before Charles shut the door again, traveled to my desk, and sat in the same space as Jenna. If her arse wasn't as frigid as an ice cube, predictably it would be still warm.

"Did someone have a drunken rendezvous last night without me?"

I properly informed him to fuck off. In sign language.

Charles smirked, "I love it when you talk dirty to me, darling."

I signed another obscenity at him and he gasped in mock-outrage. "My my, Yona. Do you kiss your daughter with that mouth? The horror."

"I do," I said proudly, turning back to the storyboard I was working on. "Every morning and every night before cuddle time."

"You Hufflepuffs are deplorable," Charles voiced his disgust.

"Excuse me, señor Salazar Slytherin. Would you like a No-Mag sacrifice to revive yourself?"

"Tsk," he rolled his eyes at me.

We bantered back and forth for the next twenty minutes, until I held my head begging for mercy. My groan caused Charles to relent, graciously setting a hangover potion in front of me.

"You get so bitey when you're hungover," he commented, rubbing his fingers euphorically against the top of my head. I actually released an orgasm-sounding moan when he began massaging my scalp.

"Now Yona, darling. We don't want to make Jenna jealous," Charles teased, but continued to rub away the ache in my head. Honestly, I was not sure if the hangover potion or Charles' massaging remedy worked better.

"So... you want to kiss and tell?" There was certainly a smug smirk on that mouth. "Or am I to draw my own conclusions."

I shivered. "Your conclusions are the worst. But I'm afraid to inform you that there was no kissing to tell of...just some dancing and running from photographers."

"So it was you," Charles ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Holy fuckin hell. James Potter, eh?"

I rolled my eyes, and further explained the situation of me being buzzed and then drunk. "It's your fault for not going. You forsook me not attending that shite last night."

"Forsook?"

"Forsook!" I eyed him disdainfully. "What do you think about all this?"

"That no one uses the word forsook anymore," Char mumbled under his breath before flashing that easy grin. "A date with James Potter, eh? When are you two going out?"

"Never," my tone firm, resolute. Charles sent me a sympathetic look, sighing deeply but not saying a word. "I told him no. Mika—"

"All I'm saying is a roll in the sheets with the handsome bloke. Not marry him," Charles supplied with a roll of his tongue and a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "If he asks again, maybe consider it before outright refusing?"

I scoffed at how easy he made it sound. "Why don't you do it then?"

"Believe me. I'd be on that arse in a second, riding him around like a legless horse, but I'm fairly certain The Potter Prince does not swing that way." He finished the statement with a flirtatious wink before his eyes flickered over my latest work.

"Another storyboard featuring The Potter Prince?" He raised a eyebrow, intrigued yet mildly perturbed. His fingers flipped through the mass of sketches of various Quidditch players, broomsticks, and trending gear. "Damn you're good. The products are going to sell like hotcakes."

"Madam Patil isn't satisfied yet," I remarked, chewing thoughtfully on the end of my pencil. The woman had really been riding me lately.

"When is Parvati Patil ever truly satisfied," Charles joked, yet there was a bite in his tone.

Touché.

Days passed, a new week started, and Charles even began to express concern over me staying later and later at the office. As a result, I frequently holed myself up in the company's basement library armed with a laptop, art supplies, and a notebook. The set up was better than the alternative: Having the boss linger around the Creative Department slowly sucking out my soul.

On Friday, Charles invited me and Mikasa to dinner, which I turned down yet again. There was grocery shopping to be done, after all. He remained silent but furrowed his brow in worry.

After arriving at Luna's house hours later, Mikasa announced her presence dressed in an elaborate radish fairy outfit.

Seriously, my five-year-old was decked out in a radish headdress and crown, radish clip-on earrings, a reddish dress, and wings resembling the vegetables leaves. She looked like she belonged in a garden.

So much for Luna not doing anything weird to my child this time. Color me shocked.

An hour later, I decide that I was entirely too tired to care about appearances so holding Mikasa's leafy gloved hand we ventured inside to shop. Contemplating choices of cereal even felt daunting right now due to Madam Patil's incessant demands and rejections of proposals.

Perhaps that's why the circuit to my brain frayed to the point of no return.

"Yona? Is that you?" Inside, I died a little bit.

I hate when people see me in the grocery store. Honestly, like clockwork, they usually ask, "Oh! What are you doing here?"

Then I am stuck contemplating the ceiling and resisting the urge to ooze a sarcastic "Oh, you know, just thought I'd hunt some unicorns today."

Admittedly, that is a rather cruel comment to make in casual conversation. What did unicorns do to deserve that treatment?

The old classmate, Layla, in front of me paused entirely too long, while her eyes warily considered if I've gone mad. What did I do now?Clenching the cold metal of the shopping cart, I quickly shined a sunny smile her way.

"Hunting... unicorns?" Oh shit; I totally said that out loud. "Is that supposed to be a...joke?"

One you were slow to on the uptake for, obviously, I wanted to retort but restrained myself. Miraculously.

"Uhh," I considered my options whilst gazing down the aisle and nearly plowed the cart into a side display.

Hallucination? I've seriously got to get this checked out.

I mentally slapped my cheeks. Nope, hoodlum man in glasses (aka: James Potter, Mr. Nobody Really, space alien) is still holding my daughter by the hand. That girl's going to get kidnapped someday.

Deep breaths, Yona. Deep breaths.

"Trouble," I immediately signed to Mikasa, which caused her to whine and drop James' hand.

"Hello," he smiled down at me. "Fancy meeting you here, and with a garden fairy to boot. Not an everyday occurrence at the market."

The forgotten Layla Creevey thrusted her way into the conversation, "Yona, my dear old friend; who might this be?" The urge to snort at the ridiculousness inched fiercely.

And then I paled—complexion visibly drawn. With a paralyzed expression of dread, my gaze flew back to James Potter—who sported an all-knowing, shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

"Yona?" Layla's voice grated on my nerves and released a defeated sigh. Damn it woman, stop saying my name.

"He's a space alien," My voice dead calm, noting the severity of the situation at how impatient Mikasa was growing. "If you'll excuse me, Princess Radish has not been had her evening watering."

"What. What... what what?" She said what four times; isn't that a tad redundant? Thankfully, Layla didn't pursue me and dubbed Princess Radish though.

The cashier smiled at Mikasa dancing and off-key humming as we paid at the register and prepared to leave, but I recognized the signs of my daughter's struggle against sleepy yawns.

"Up we go, Radish Fairy," my arms lifted her and looped limp noodle arms around my neck to shift her into a piggyback.

Twisting my body back towards the grocery bags, a rush of panic flowed through me. The hell?

The bags were gone.

I was about to commence hyperventilation when someone coughed to my left. James Potter.

Our eyes locked in the moonlight, and the heart inside my chest felt like cardiac-arrest. Perhaps hyperventilating would have been preferable instead of silently witnessing James Potter casually carrying my groceries.

A list of obscenities directed at The Potter Prince channeled through me, though no words escaped—as if a mute button pressed down on my mouth.

"Hey there," he said casually, swinging the grocery bags in his hands. Please, for the love of Merlin, stop the carelessness—there are eggs in one of those.

"Hi," I responded breathlessly, vigilant of him stepping closer.

"Mind if I carry your bags? She seems to be a handful," James reasoned with a gesture to Mikasa's warmth loafed against the back of my blouse. Sweat pooled under my arms, tricking down my back and adding to my anxiety.

An exhausted mix between a groan and an awkward squeak unleashed itself from my throat.

James was taken aback.

"Fine," I finally threw in the towel, but motioned to the bags swinging in his hands—as though they weighed nothing. I helped the cashier pack those bags—the heaviness was nothing to sniff at. "But quit with the swinging already, there are eggs in there that I'd rather not have break."

I watched his eyes widen slightly before his grin returned. "Yes ma'am," he winked attractively, and I swallowed down the instant regret remembering Charles' advice.

"Don't get any wrong ideas," I squinted at him crossly but my heart really was not in it.

James rewarded me small smile as he listened and then laughed at my suspicious expression. "I would not dream of it."

"Where are your bags?" I asked, genuinely curious. "It's assumed that someone of your status wouldn't be stalking little old me, so..."

He raised his eyebrows and blinked at back in surprise. "Would it turn you on if I stalked you?" His tone was jesting, eyes flickering over to study my reaction.

"Not at all," I shook my head, tone deadly serious. No controlling men ever again.

"Good. I'm the same way. No stalking and no handcuffing." Handcuffing? Bloody hell. Way to pique a girl's interest.

"Quite the laundry list," I remarked, shifting Mikasa's weight delicately. James opened his mouth to say something, eyes lingering on Mikasa, and then shook his head. "You never answered my question."

"Oh, right." He appeared to want to clap his hands together but remembered that the bags were preventing the action. "I disapparated the bags home before coming back to see if I could ask you out again."

I stopped walking, fixing him with a bewildered stare. Why?

"Why?" James sounded amused, but glanced up at the stars above. Crap, I said that out loud; didn't I? "I thought I'd made that clear that night."

I ignored the confession, yet it did not stop the blush spreading across my face. "Mikasa hates Side-Along Apparition—it makes her sick."

"Poor thing." Hazel eyes met grey, and James' mouth curled up into a full smile. He glanced at the slumbering girl and reached out a hand. "She's a cutie."

Protectiveness overwhelmed me and I jumped away from his outstretched hand. No touchy.

He averted his eyes again, but there was a faint understanding smile on his lips. "Sorry, I didn't think. It's obvious you're protective over her. Is she...yours?"

I blinked up at him. "Yes," I murmured with a throat suddenly as dry as the Sahara Desert. "She's my daughter."

I waited for him to run for the hills screaming, but then he didn't.

"I thought so," his voice sounded normal—relaxed even—and he gestured in front of us. "So, how about that date?"

I stared at him, uncertain how to proceed but decided to ask anyways. 'You're not marrying the guy,' as Charles previously stated. If I happened to roll in the sheets with him should the mood strike...

"Have you had dinner, or made plans for dinner yet?"

James blinked back in surprise by her question. "Nope. I'm blissfully free for mealtime tonight."

Throwing caution to the wind, my mind rationalized that Little Mermaid's Ariel once walked on land for the sake of curiosity. "It won't be a gourmet meal or anything but... Want to join us?"

 **A/N:**

Man oh man, this chapter was longer than anticipated.

Thank you everyone who reviewed and my silent readers, you're wonderful!

Let me know what you think so far, or any suggestions you might have. Reviews always welcome!

 **Sneak peak:**

James looked back to her with a small smirk, "You've got so many questions for someone who dubbed me a space alien."

Heat flushed into my cheeks and my eyes moved down towards my lap, "Sorry."


	5. From Prince to Perverted Space Alien

**I** **don't own anything HP related!** As an FYI, the Harry Potter fanfiction site that I had this story uploaded to is shutting down so the current chapters that I have finished are 1-6 but I've been editing them before uploading here. Enjoy the quick updates as they come!

 **James' POV:**

The dinner invitation was intended to be a gesture of appreciation—it was abundantly clear. This was not a date.

Unfortunately.

"I can give you a grand tour of the apartment, which will probably take a whole ten seconds, but I have to get dinner done. So the enthusiasm will have to be contained," Yona said sarcastically, setting Mikasa onto a comfy-looking couch and spreading out paper and crayons on the table.

"Allow me to assist you," I requested confidently, placing the groceries on her kitchen counter.

Yona creased her brow. "Normally, I'd be overjoyed with the offer for help..." She brushed her hair over her shoulder—eyes lingering on her daughter before returning to me. "But could you keep an eye on her for a few?"

Momentarily slack-jawed, my head slowly nodded, "Sure. No problem."

"Uhh..."

Yona cleared her throat, causing me to whip my head back in her direction, "Um, you can sit down if you want," Yona finished nervously, shifting weight from foot to foot. Her gaze danced around the room, landing on everything and anything but me.

She seemed self-conscious about something. I gave an bewildered shrug and hurried over to the small table, sitting down on the couch.

"I'm still watching you," Yona's voice warned me, backing her way into the kitchen. Ahh, there was the protectiveness.

"You," Mikasa wrote in the notebook beside her and presented a drawing she had been working on. The red and yellow stick figure with a crown on its head waved a staff that resembled a broomstick.

An index finger from my left hand brushed against the stick figure and grinned. "Me?" I questioned, gesturing to myself and burning with the urge to ruffle Mikasa's hair.

The little girl in front of me beamed, shortly nodding her head of dark hair, which spilled everywhere. She hummed loudly as she continued to draw with a red crayon—lengthening waves of crimson on the head of another stick figure. This one wielded a sword.

"Mommy," Mikasa proudly wrote in the notebook, humming as she added "red hair" as if to describe mommy. But Yona had chestnut-colored hair, not red...?

As if inspiration suddenly surfaced, Mikasa's fingers moved excitedly in sign language for a moment before seeming to recognize the clueless expression on my face. An immense amount of guilt pressed upon me when she released a deep, defeated sigh.

Thankfully that dejection recovered quickly as she grabbed another crayon and wrote on the notebook, "Are you a prince?"

A loud, silly laugh escaped from my lips—not befitting of a prince one bit. Even if I wasn't a prince, perhaps I could make her laugh?

Wand at the ready and a spell in mind, Mikasa's big brown eyes widen with delight at the flowers blossoming around her. She dropped her crayons immediately, screeching high pitched while toppling over in giggles after I materialized a fluffy bunny.

Flourishing my wand, I threw back my shoulders and orchestrated a dorky—err I mean valiant—princely air. With a playful smile, I wrote in her notebook, "Do you want to see my dragon next?"

Following a quick nod of approval, I cast my Patronous.

"Dinners ready. W-what are you doing?" Yona crossly demanded, yet the tender look in her eyes and a hint of a smile stated otherwise.

"The Radish Fairy wanted to fight off a dragon. So independent," I flashed a grin at the little girl—barely shifting away as she lunged with a toy sword. "Unfortunately, Prince Space Alien's plans were thwarted."

"Prinnnnce," Mikasa squealed, crashing into me whilst laughing. The dragon patronus vanished reflecting my concentration, or there lack of.

I rolled, grasping the toy sword I had at my waist, and pulled a startled Yona against my side. "Fair Princess, do not fret. The sword that doth protect you is at your side."

And I have now proved I am a total dork.

The laughter that I hear from Yona is genuine, and completely worth any amount of embarrassment. Mikasa crashed into me again, severing whatever mood my words created.

Yona gave an apologetic smile and hurried over to the small table, sitting down on her legs and letting Mikasa crash enthusiastically into her instead.

"Muummm," the girl whined loudly, yet Yona appeared used to it.

Yona spoke and signed with her hands simultaneously, "Making a cute face doesn't make it okay."

Despite her words, Yona tickled the Radish Fairy anyways—filling the room with laughter.

Dinner was relatively short on account of Mikasa reaching her limit for bedtime. Left to my own devices, I washed the dishes halfway out of responsibility to be helpful and the remainder to do something with my hands.

"Finally she's asleep," Yona sighed peacefully, brushing strands of hair from her eyes. "Sorry, this probably isn't the atmosphere you're used to, huh?"

I crinkled my nose and hummed, "Well, the space ship _is_ filled with lavish amenities."

"Pardon? Oh right, space alien." Yona laughed and rolled her eyes.

"You're a good cook so I'll have to abduct you, I'm afraid." I gravely informed her of the news—the dishes behind me long forgotten. "Spoils of war."

"What if I'm married?"

Double checking her left hand for the millionth time, it was blissfully vacant of a ring. Yona noticed the direction of my gaze and huffed, concealing the hand behind her back.

"Maybe I have a boyfriend. Perhaps I'm even bisexual," Yona countered, fidgeting profusely.

I wasn't an idiot; when I'd seen her on the train, it was automatically assumed she was taken—despite my efforts of light flirtation. After the night at the club, curiosity changed into interest—deep and unfathomable as her gray eyes.

Absent from the conversations we had was the objection of Yona having a husband, or boyfriend/girlfriend even, and I felt the urge to talk more to her.

Angling my body closer to her, I pressed further, "Do you have someone?"

Her gray eyes darted, refusing to meet my gaze. "Uhh, yep. Big and burly Lars," Yona described with a hitch. "He's a good man."

Leaning into the kitchen counter, I layered on what magazines dubbed 'The smolder.' "Fair enough. When is he expected to be home, love?"

Straightening her spine, Yona's dilated pupils fixed on mine—our mutual attraction reflected back at each other.

"Well?" I looked at her curiously.

"W-what?" She stuttered out, crossing her arms and flushing a dusty rose.

"Good, burly Lars," I reminded her cheekily, hoping to pull her out of her stupor. "Or did you find something else you like?"

Gray eyes settled back into mine, feigning disinterest as she shook her head no—yet she wasn't telling me to lay off. Unfortunately for her, the red blush intensified on her cheeks, shredding to light every bit of her act.

"Yona," I breathed her name into the shell of her ear, yet not leaning into her to allow appropriate boundaries. "Throw me a bone here."

It's very hard for men to gauge reactions and emotions, and subtle hints are almost entirely lost on me. All teasing aside, I wanted to know if she had a boyfriend—and I wanted her to let me know if she liked me.

I pulled myself away, gazing into her eyes seriously. "Most guys—me included—don't like the 'chase' so please, just be upfront."

"I don't know what to make of you," Yona admitted, looking up at me with a tired smile.

 **Yona's POV:**

Through narrowed eyes, I asked "Why ask me?" Besides conquering whatever challenge arose and tossing it away.

"I doubled-back," James said, holding his palms out. Reading my confusion, he continued "Guys always notice women, so the first look generally doesn't count beyond instinctual. Doubling back means I'm interested. I might not know you yet, but I like what I've seen from the first look, second look, third... Does that make sense?"

"Hardly," I sighed, unable to decipher why he would be interested in someone like me. "Why don't you go for someone more model-like?"

"You're gorgeous," he shrugged confidently—effectively evading the question. "And honestly, you do not appear to have a screw loose."

Suddenly remembering something he once stated, I smiled. "Were you really handcuffed by someone?"

James paled, appearing extremely uncomfortable in the prolonged silence. "Indeed," he finally confessed, sounding like he'd preferably be chewing glass.

"How did that happen?"

James looked back to her with a small smirk, "You've got so many questions for someone who dubbed me a space alien."

Heat flushed into my cheeks and my eyes moved down towards my lap, "Sorry." He clearly didn't want to talk about it.

"Are you an unsatisfactory kisser?"

His body trembled, attempting to restrain laughter and raised his eyebrows, "I don't believe so, although, I'd be happy to test it out." James stepped toward such me with a frightening level of confidence.

It felt hard to breathe.

My lack of answer probably didn't help matters because James slowly inched closer—a teasing smile on his soft-looking lips.

Damnit; his breath even smelled good as it fanned against my face. How long had it been since Just a turn of my head and... What was I doing?!

James eyes widened when my hands clenched his shirt, fisting the jumper with the behavior of a delinquent.

"Don't fuck with me, Potter." If the tone had been dangerous maybe he would have taken the statement more seriously.

Instead of laughing—because that's what he freaking did. The perverted space alien!

"Perverted now? Is that really necessary?" He smiled at me innocently, while I quietly stormed because of my big, fat mouth.

I openly glared at him, releasing my hold on his jumper before I either got sued, or found myself in bed with him. No in between.

If I had to face the truth, it would actually be stark and raw—crunchy as a naked cucumber. Merlin, did I really need to envision that?

The truth of it; how many people did he attract this badly? Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and wrapped in silky fame; it made my heart ache just thinking about it.  
He obviously was the kind of person who could get whatever he ever wanted, it wasn't a hard picture to paint, after all. He wasn't nicknamed The Potter Prince of shites and giggles. So out of my league and patience.

"You want me now and will dump me when you're done, right?" I bitterly smiled, pushing him aside.

James' fingers came up to pull my chin into view.

His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, before he leant back. "You're assuming that I am only playing with you, is that it?"

I didn't deny it.

"Okay, no date yet. How about we get to know each other a bit more first," he decided, hazel gaze never wavering from mine. "Would that be okay?"

I stared blankly at him.

"Let me plan somewhere fun for us to go. You bring Mikasa and a friend," James suggested, rubbing the back of his neck. "Freddie had a date today—Char, or something—so if it's next weekend I'll be able to bring him along."

"I'm really not your type of girl," I argued, knowing deep in my heart I did not want a one night stand. Yet, I refused to bring more instability into Mikasa's life.

"Please give me the honor to decide the type of woman I prefer," his husky voice stated. A silence where James remained pensive, as if carefully considering his words unfolded, until he continued. "I cannot promise you that I will be a Prince, but I hope you give me a chance."

The wariness overwhelmed me but his words seemed genuine, so I nodded. Cautiously, but I nodded. "Alright, I suppose."

 **A/N:**

What do you think so far? Where should James plan for everyone to go? Also, isn't he such a dork? I love it.

Furthermore, additional backstory on Mikasa's dad will be provided later but let me know your thoughts, questions, etc. on tidbits I leave in chapters. Reviews are lovely!

Sneak peak for next chapter:

Yona's POV:

"You should relax more. Like me, darling." As if to emphasize the point, James loosely wiggled his body side to side.

Rocking Mikasa's gently and moving her head to rest on my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes at him. "You relax entirely too much."


	6. Blocks and Rides

I don't own anything Harry Potter!

 **Yona's POV:**

What most people call fate is mostly their own stupidity. In truth, I had already fallen in love with a Prince Charming. That Once Upon A Time sham was more than enough.

What made Mr. Nobody Really any different?

Finished for the day, it was expected that the office would be empty when I decided to trudge up from the basement to grab some materials from my office. Apparently, quietly slipping inside was blissfully unanticipated.

Low and behold, Charles was busy getting...well, busy.

"Then my hand trails down to your jeans, fingering the button... dipping into the space to touch that patch of skin only for a moment. Instead I'm rubbing against the fabric harder hoping I'm earned a hearty moan. Do you need someone to take care of you now, darling?" Charles spoke huskily into the phone—the office phone. "Beg for me."

A hearty moan was promptly delivered. Fuckin hell, Char. You animal.

"Pardon the interruption of your late night solicitation," I snapped the door shut and witnessed Charles nearly piss himself discreetly rearranging the front of his trousers.

There was a voluminous whine on the receiver of the office phone due to Charles' absence. Or perhaps it was abstinence in this case.

Taking advantage of a flustered Charles, my index finger clicked the speaker phone option. "He's going to have to call you back. On his actual phone," I emphasized widening my eyes at my naughty colleague.

The heavy panting hitched, audibly shaken by the interruption.

"...err, sure thing." The masculine voice was familiar, scratching at the edge of my brain for recall. He clicked off the line before Charles even had the chance to exhale properly.

"Did Mikasa jump on you again this morning?" Awe sparkled in his tone—controlled frustration barely hinted.

"She does it everyday; it's her morning ritual," the grumbled inched off my tongue.

"So that's the reason behind my sexual appetite's suffering," he muttered lightly, running his fingers through blonde locks. "Cockblocked by a five-year-old."

"This is the fourth time I've heard you lip servicing, Sir Whines A lot." Exhaustion filled to the brim, I went through the motions of packing up. "Believe it or not I enjoy having you as a colleague, Char."

"But is it really necessary for my sex life to be as restricted as yours?" Snubbing his comment, I put my back to him and continued placing items into my bag. After a brief moment, I sensed rather than saw his approach.

"What if I was Madam Patil?"

"You would be informing me that this 'lacks impact," he joked with his chin settling on top with my head. But it was his fingers I stiffened over—bracing for impact. I sighed.

"Char," causally the warning settled between us. "If you get any closer, I'll scream pervert at the top of my lungs."

Unsurprisingly, Charles didn't listen and had me in stitches from tickling my sides. "Liar," he accused with a snort. "By the way, I thought you'd left for the day—What's with the intrusion?"

The features of my face flattened in affect, "She told me that my storyboard still 'lacks impact."

Charles poked at my side, rewarding me a sympathetic smile. "Pretentious woman, our Madam Patil."

"More edge. It needs more impact, Yon dear." I mimicked our boss's tone with perfection. "Not to mention this shite with Potter."

"Did you have dessert after dinner?" Charles teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Please tell me you jumped all over those royal assets."

I openly glared at him.

"Bite into a chunk of the Crown Jewels," he fanned the suggestion at me to plow further in jest.

"Sorry my fuse is about to blow," I admitted, pinching the bridge of my nose. "James asked me out to an amusement park. Honestly, I'm too freaked..."

"Hmm. Never pegged him as the coaster type. Oooh, maybe you'll have a Reese Witherspoon thing going on and Wild Horses can play in the background."

"You would hypothetically destined my love life to the Fear plot line" was my monotone retort. "Jokes on you that it'd be a repeat."

The words bit me in the arse as Charles morphed into the picture of smugness. "You dirty girl." Then he dropped the attitude quick enough to give me whiplash. With a serious frown, he inquired "Worrying James' secretly a Blackened Prince?"

The fierceness of my glare stabbed at him. "Don't start," my hands frozen on the bag in front of me as I warned him.

"You heard from that ex lately? Or is he MIA?"

"On holiday. Thank the lord for that. Hopefully he'll stay there and cease the owls."

"Blocked his number?" Charles noticed my nod and smiled, "good girl."

"And we moved so there is that," I mumbled, thumb absentmindedly rubbing the strap of my bag. "He still sees Mikasa once a month with supervision."

"Gotta hand it to Mr. Perfect," Charles bit out—laced with bitterness.

"Tora never settled for less than perfect," I muttered softly—a faraway expression consuming me. "Anyways...are you going to come with me to this train wreck this weekend?"

"You're actually going? Perhaps he's beginning to tame that wild heart of yours and you're falling for him," Charles boldly suggested, raising his eyebrows.

"Char! Don't say that. Why would you say that," I growled fisting the bag in front of me.

"Chill troublemaker," Charles eyed the now wrinkled material and sighed. "It was a joke. Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not—well, yeah. I suppose I am angry, huh?" The tense grip on my bag eased slightly. "I cannot help thinking why bother trying with him?"

"James or...Tora?"

"In a way it's both," was my explanation, appraising the ceiling on how to continue. "Above all Mikasa comes first—her safety, well-being, and everything."

"Again. Not telling you to marry the guy, especially not Tora. Jesus don't ever marry him. No matter how much your mother is snowed by him." He grinned at the huff that unlatched my lips. He was correct, after all my mother still loved the hell out of Tora. "But give Potter a taste—you might be surprised by the flavor," Charles finished with a wink.

"Demented sun bear," was my reply, awarding Charles another eye roll. "It's a group thing, Char." I explained the dynamics of James' amusement park outing.

"He's bringing Fred Weasley?" A strange expression crossed his face. "Have you told them you're bringing me?"

"Not yet," the wariness was clear in my tone. "Why?"

"Don't tell them," he said gleefully, lacing his hands behind his head. "It will definitely be more fun that way."

For some reason, I doubted it.

 **James POV:**

"She's fine," I insisted, holding out a loaf of bread for Freddie to help prepare sandwiches. I handed the cheese to a hungover Albus, who crashed at the apartment last night and became roped into this conversation. "I want to go on an actual date with her eventually."

"Unless she tries to kills you or something because that would certainly suck."

Stunned into silence, I stared at him for a long moment before replying, "Thanks for that, Freddie."

Freddie grinned happily, "Hey, I was wondering if we could go out sometime—"

He paused filled with another lightbulb moment apparently, and then started slashing the air with a fist. "Stab. Stab. Stab. And then Jem Jem would scream, 'Ahh no, why?"

"I feel like I'd be saying more than that," I replied sarcastically, then turned to my brother. "Would this be premeditated?"

"Probably," Albus shrugged, uncaring either way. He was such a grand brother to have. "Yona sounds familiar though..."

"Really?" I asked, glancing over at Freddie, who promised to be unbaked today.

"Wasn't there Ravenclaw a year below you, James..." Albus interrupted, snapping his fingers as if that would assist in recall. "They called him Ravenclaw's Prince, but I forget his name. He dated a Yona, though. Pretty redhead."

"Red? Like Fred's color?" My focus didn't waver from the burnt auburn waves that crept down Freddie's ears. If that was the case, it must have been a different Yona at Hogwarts. Huh, what are the odds?

"Why my Potter Prince, I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are," Freddie said dreamily with eyes full of mirth.

"Oh shut up," I growled back, chucking a piece of bread at him. Unaffected, Freddie jammed the whole slice into his mouth. "I was trying to be serious."

"Nah. I'm talking apple red," Albus assured me, shaking his head as his eyes lingered on Freddie. "Not ginger or whatever crossbreed our bloodline produces."

"Oi!" Freddie objected, throwing the sandwich I had just finished at Al. "We're not crossbreed or weird like that."

So bloody wasteful.

...

We were expected to meet at 11am.

I only prayed Yona would text me to let me know if she was no-showing, rather than face the embarrassment of Freddie never letting me forget being stood-up.

"What if your crush doesn't come?" Freddie voiced my fear easily, shoving an entire chunk of funnel cake into his mouth.

Sneering at my cousin in disgust, "You and your damn stress eating. I brought sandwiches and lunch for a reason, you know."

"And I'll happily eat those as well. When the time comes," Freddie gravely informed the funnel cake in his hands. "So settle it down, Jem Jem. You're making me anxious just looking at you."

I suppose it wasn't a secret that I was nervous, and probably looking like a wreck.

 **Yona's POV** :

Damn it; why did he have to look so good?

My parched throat, sweaty armpits, and the disheveled child kicking against my back, certainly were not improving my case.

What the hell was he doing here? What the hell was I doing here?

This entire situation was so awkward and so bizarre.

Not to mention the closer we walked to him, the panic spiked to an alarming degree. The expression on James Potter's face obviously dwelled in unease—pure, writhing anxiousness.

There he was; his left foot tapped repeatedly at the ground—eyes glued to his phone. This park appeared to be the last place he wanted to be. Shite. Shite shite shite.

"You okay?" was what I forced myself to ask, readjusting Mikasa as she squirmed.

Eyes reminiscent of a glass of warm Butterbeer shining in the sunlight connected with mine. My heart ached at the contact.

My words made his posture snap straight and he nearly dropped his phone to the ground, "Y-Yon!"

"Yon?" A laugh escaped my lips at the familiarity this man was giving me.

James flushed red, took a step back and tilted his head at me. "Y-yeah, everything's fine. Good. Well."

"Going to say you're bangin next, or groovy maybe? Oh smooth greeter." A man, who I recognized as Fred Weasley, commented casually as he shoveled nearly half a pound of funnel cake in his mouth.

"You startled me a little that's all," James replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He sent a glare to his cousin and cleared his throat, "This ball of joy is my cousin, Freddie Weasley."

Extending my hand out to him, I said, "Yona Ackerman." Afterwards, I slide Mikasa off my back and began introductions in sign language. "This is my daughter, Mikasa. She's hard of hearing, so please be patient with us.

"Also," I continued on and gestured behind me. "This is my friend, Charles Yanxley."

The paper plate that Freddie had been holding flew by us, powdered sugar dusting in the slight breeze. "Hhhhummmm," Freddie's face paled as his mouth opened and closed at Char. "Err...Sure thing" he coughed out with a blush. "Nice to meet you."

Everything clicked. Turning a glare at Charles, I hissed "no. You didn't, Sir Whines A Lot."

Charles had the cheek to actually smirk, "Have been, darling. Many times. I told you it would be more fun this way."

Fuckin hell.

It was awkward being clued in on their secret romance, which James seemed to be oblivious to.

He also permitted Mikasa to pull him around to whatever ride she pleased, "Come on," James urged for what felt like the hundredth time and grasped my hand.

This time it was the Ferris wheel—a long awaited ride for Mikasa, yet she insisted going with Charles and Freddie at the last moment. A decision that left Charles in unrepressed stitches.

Though when we were left to alone I fiddled awkwardly with my hands for a minute, uncertainty growing fiercer between us before my concentration was broken by him.

"Are you having fun?" His breath right next to my ear made me jump, cheeks flaring like a schoolgirl. Transfixed by his eyes, I vaguely wondered if the glasses he wore were prescription. Stupid disguised alien prince... "Yona?"

"Mmm," I replied distractedly, forcing myself to break eye contact with him. Our cart swayed into motion and the lights of the park lit the dimming sky—contrasting colors beautiful. "The sky is so beautiful up here" I sighed, fantasizing floating among the colors painted in the wind on a broomstick.

"Yeah, I've always thought so, too," James commented smiling sadly at the sunset surrounding us as a slight breeze raked wisps through his hair like the curling of fingers. Merlin, he was gorgeous, as well.

Realizing that James had caught me staring, I attempted stabbing at his resolve with a teasing tone. "So what's your flaw?"

James turned his head with a small laugh, commenting, "Oh I see how it is. Hmmm, a single flaw? I mean I happen to have a lot of them."

"Embarrassing ones?"

James ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, mumbling, "Those and others... I did warn you that I'm not actually a prince. Half of me wishes I could promise you perfection."

My mouth immediately frowned, "Stomp that part as hard as you can. No ones perfect." Oops; hearing my tone out loud, it sounded a bit more hostile than intended.

His eyes flickered away from mine to the skies, answering softly, "I know. Trust me."

"If you want the best, I suggest you keep searching because that's not me," I breathed calmly. Perfection was a curse that I never could win but I knew my worth.

Just like I know what it is like to not be good enough.

"You're so willing to get rid of me, eh? Darling my courting has only just begun," he shook his head, plastering an attractive grin. "I still have yet to achieve my most recent quest."

"Quest?"

James leaned closer into the seat next to me, leaning his elbow against the caged area of the cart. "Concerning my kissing technique," his husky voice stated, making me feel warm all over.

My cheeks warmed, accidentally mumbling, "Perverted space alien."

"What if I kissed you now?" Hot breath danced against my cheekbone, as I swallowed indecision.

My spine became ramrod straight. "I—that is—" What would I do? It's not like I wouldn't welcome it, after all. I'd be a blind fool to not find James attractive, yet I had meant what I said about not wanting to be played.

"How about this?" James tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and whispered, "I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do before I do it and you can stop me."

Merlin help me. Quietly, I nodded my head.

"Thank you, my lady." Jame breathed in my ear, causing gooseflesh to break out. "So, I'm going to lift your chin with two of my fingers, okay?"

I nodded, refusing to make eye contact because I was terrified of the emotions I'd find. To his credit, James did exactly as he said.

"Now, I'm going to press closer to you. Not much," he stated, as I became drunk under his scent. "And my lips are going to come closer. Only from where I'm speaking into your ear now...but I want to kiss you here." A hot thumb from his right hand caressed my cheekbone. "Just here for now. For today, alright?"

Silently I nodded, as if in a trance. The beat of my heart pounded to life every nerve and neuron in my body—logically not making sense.

"Say it for me, princess." I stared at him, mouth dropping open at the request. "Please."

"Yes," I managed to breathe. And then, without hesitation, James did exactly what he described.

Leaving me flushed and staring, James rose up from his seat and offered a hand. "Shall we?" He asked like nothing had occurred.

The ride was over.

Pursing my lips, I glared at him momentarily before continuing, "perverted space alien" and accepted his hand.

As soon as we made it down the stairs, I dropped his hand and stared at the ground. Quickly, I excused myself to go to the loo.

The line was sorter than expected—thank the lucky stars—so I snuck back sooner.

Charles was talking to James. "Where did Yona run off to?"

"The loo," James softly replied, and continued—almost inaudible, "I—I really like her."

"That girl is a rocky road covered with thousands of bumps. A bona fide troublemaker," Charles commented watching Mikasa bury Freddie's feet in the sandbox.

"Mikasa? Yeah, I'd say," James laughed genuinely.

"That's also true, but that's not to whom I was referring. Mikasa inherited the trait from momma."

More thank anything I wanted to slap that man.

After announcing my presence, it wasn't long before another hand tugged on me. One that was more familiar.

An exhausted Mikasa looked up at me, containing a yawn and rubbing at her eyes. She nodded her head when I signed the question, "Up?"

Hauling her onto my hip, I stiffened as I felt James presence linger.

"You should relax more. Like me, darling." As if to emphasize the point, James loosely wiggled his body side to side.

Rocking Mikasa's gently and moving her head to rest on my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes at him. "You relax entirely too much."

"Untrue!" My laugh was light, completely genuine as we prattled on and argued playfully. And Char noticed.

"I think you fancy him. It's pretty raw to see," Charles assured me later as we grabbed candy apples to take home.

"I don't."

"Sure," his appraised me, tone lit in sarcasm. "And it's also possible that your Mr. Nobody fancies you. Genuinely."

"Char... Please shut it. I'll do anything." In an instant, I wished to vacuum those words back into my mouth and swallow.

We were exiting the park—just about to put this day behind us—and allow me to go home. Me and my big mouth sometimes.

"Oh yeah?" He challenged. "I dare you to take his picture."

Narrowing my eyes with a dedicated pout, I hissed out, "Hold my daughter."

 **James POV:**

Disappointed. That was the emotion that shot painfully in the center of my chest after Yona left.

I turned to head towards the exit but a familiar figure with unruly hair had sneaked up from behind, which bewildered and thrilled me all the same.

There was a flash and sensing the direction of my amusement, Yona dropped down the phone she was hiding behind. Her expression resembled petrified wood; coloring ossified.

"Princess," she scowled at the nickname but it was too easy to mess with her. I couldn't resist.

Remembering the flash, I smirked and leaned forward into her line of sight. "Did you really take my picture?"

My mind was reeling. If she wanted my picture all she had to do was ask.

Slate-tinted eyes and chestnut hair hit me square in the chest. She was beautiful in a wrecking ball sort of way—disastrous, confidently clumsy and I was struck by her.

The next thing I knew was she freaked out yelling and pointing, "Ahhh, l-look! A Nargle!" I couldn't resist looking—a small part of me was so damn gullible but I wanted to see one.

"I don't see anything…" I said turning my attention back toward her. Shockingly, Yona had disappeared. Utterly confused by what just happened, I shrugged it off. She done run off with my picture and I was clueless as to why.

"Damn Nargles."

 **A/N** :

I'm finally caught up on the edits, until I discover any flaws that is. Sooo, the next chapter probably won't be for a few days. Reviews always make me pumped to write, though, so feel free to review or PM me!

Thank you for reading!

 **Sneak peak for next chapter:**

"Just who the hell do you think you are," I demanded, stomping my foot like a toddler.

"I'm a admiral in the Navy. Kind of a big deal and all," James teased.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes failing to resist a smile.


	7. Plays of the Heart

**Yona's POV:**

"Wha—what are you doing here?" As designated snack parent today for the show's after celebration, the tray in my hands swayed dangerously at the sight in front of me.

James Potter dressed in a complete naval outfit—absurdly disguised and handsome as ever.

"I was invited," he informed me, a charming smile gracing his face. His hands reached out, "Allow me to take that, princess" and slipped the tray of snacks from my dazed hands.

"Just who the hell do you think you are," I demanded, stomping my foot like a toddler.

"I'm an admiral in the Navy. Kind of a big deal and all," James teased, tipping his hat to me and balancing one hand on the tray.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes failing to resist a nervous smile.

Mikasa's daycare had worked diligently on this play, Winnie The Pooh, for the past month. Up until now, the entirety of my brain had been wrapped around what materials were necessary for the character Rabbit and how adorable Mikasa looked in the costume.

Of course, it escaped my mind that the little brat also invited James—honestly, I should have known.

"Oh Yona! So nice to see you. You're looking well. Is Mikasa's daddy here, too?"

"Nope," was my clipped reply.

"Oh my, where is that Ravenclaw Prince?" My body stiffened at the nickname Tora was awarded at Hogwarts. Sadistic prick probably had many a princess holding onto his sword.

"Well, you know him. Probably storming some tower sticking his sword wherever he pleases," I replied cheerfully.

Next to me, James choked on his water. Since I was already in a wonderful mood, I decided to comment on it, "Damn, did they serve gillywater? I must have missed out."

"Yeah, there are a few minutes until to show starts so let's check again. Excuse us," James grinned down at me, grasped my elbow and steered me away from the shell-shocked woman I'd spoken to.

There was vibration at my hip when we returned to our seats in the auditorium. I would have ignored the message if it weren't for the multiple alerting me that someone was calling the cell phone as well.

You know when they say, 'When it rains it pours?' Well, those people have not experienced a conversation with my mother.

 _Tora was over today and I really think you should meet up with him soon, or at least give him a call. It's very rude of you to not respond to the messages he sends via owl. I hear you blocked him from your phone as well? We need to talk, Yona._

— _Mom_

Why did she have to be difficult? It wasn't the first time I had explained Tora's true colors, yet my mother still chose to turn the other cheek. If anything, she did worse by defending the man. It was not as if I kept him from seeing Mikasa either, though Tora pretended she didn't exist unless it was convenient or fitting the standards of the custody arrangement.

James tapped my shoulder lightly, jostling me out of the inner dialogue. "You okay?"

I was torn on telling the truth or being sarcastic. The later won—surprise surprise. "Are you steaming my rice right now? I'm fantastic." Which is a response way on the other side of the comfort level James is sitting on, because I'm certain Char would simply smack me upside the head.

Lightly, of course; violence is not the answer.

"Not okay then," James translated but didn't press on that button.

When the lights dimmed out and the curtain opened, the last thing on my mind should have been what James' hands were doing. Yet, my body froze when his hand cupped around mine.

"Hhhaii," I stuttered out behind wide eyes. James kept his gaze on the stage, a slight gleam in his eyes.

"No good?"

"I-it's not quite that..." I managed to squeak and swallow down my last bit of dignity before an implosion.

"Great then," was his reply before lacing his fingers with mine—the action sparking heat onto my thigh where his fingertips splayed overtop of my skirt. It was as if a lit match had been dropped; ignited.

Still refraining from looking at me, the side of James' mouth lifted in a grin.

I'm panting and sweating—trying not to black out so that I can concentrate on my surroundings. All the while, my body boldly urged to push him on the floor and drink him up like a sweet elven wine.

Yeah; I'm definitely normal.

As the night progressed and the audience clapped, James released my hand. "That was pretty good, huh?" He inquired and chuckled when he saw the expression on my face. "Princess?"

"Perverted alien Prince," I grumbled, awkwardly shifting in my seat and feeling discomfort in the warmth situated between my legs. Merlin, it felt like I was in heat. Pathetic.

Mikasa bounced happily up to me, eyes shinning and twisting her index finger to her cheek*.

I laughed at her slyness, "You think that because you're adorable that you can have candy before dinner." In sign language, I shortly teased her and rubbed her rabbit eared head.

Mikasa turned her big brown eyes on James, amping up the pouty expression as she signed for candy again.

"You little punk... Think again, small fry!" I tickled her sides until she was squealing loudly.

James laughed at the exchange, "What are your plans for dinner?"

Hugging Mikasa tightly against me, until she squirmed and playfully feigned biting me. "I'm afraid I might not make it that long. I'm being eaten already after all."

James appeared bashful, running a hand through his hair. "May I treat the two of you? If you don't have anything in mind, aside from being devoured."

"Sure," I whispered back, avoiding his eyes as I remembered his hand wrapped around mine in the darkness of the auditorium. "Um, thank you for coming."

"Thank you for having me," was his soft reply.

James looked back and observed her silently, gesturing for them to move outside along with the crowd.

Once outdoors, it was noticeably chillier than when we arrived.

A gust of wind scattered the leaves at their feet and James blinked, glancing around thoughtfully. After a moment, his mouth quirked into a small smile. "How can I tell her it was an excellent play and that she did well?"

"Huh?"

"Mikasa," he nodded his head towards the child as he said her name. "How do I tell her in sign language?"

My heart warmed at the request. "Here," I murmured, pulling myself away from Mikasa and standing behind James. "Just something simple for now. First, twist these two fingers on this hand and down the center of your chest. Good."

As I spoke and guided James' hands through the motions, feeling our hearts thump together against his back. "That means 'I feel' and now clasp your hands together like this. That means 'happy," I finally concluded the lesson with the sign for 'well done.'

Mikasa squealed again, tackling into us and severing any potential moment. Bounding from side to side in her costume, she signed the words "Thank you."

Consumed with the effortless happy image, I could not resist the smile playing on my lips. "What dark magic is this?" I laughed, tears slightly pricking the back of my eyes.

How could this man, Mr. Nobody Really, fit so easily between us—as though he'd always been rooted in that place. How could I allow this?

And why did my heart ache for it so much?

 **A/N:**

I don't own Harry Potter!

Man oh man, this progression feels slower in writing it out. What did everyone think of James? Yona and the tidbit about her ex? Please review so I know I'm not in the dark. I like hearing what others think, or if they have any suggestions!

*it's sign language for candy.


	8. The One with the Forbidden Fruit

**I don't own Harry Potter!**

Also a quick shout-out to my first review on this site for this story, pullynnhah you're amazing!

Anyways enjoy!

 **James' POV:**

My first impression of Yona Ackerman was that she was kind of weird; unique. Fit...beautifully exhausted, but weird. Almost nostalgic. Our encounter was purely coincidental—alike to when I saw her at the club and again when her daughter randomly sought me out in the grocery store. It didn't mean much in isolated incidents but as they added up, my interest grew.

And the more time spent with her, I realized it was her smile that initially caught me—reeling me in like some naive aquatic creature.

Since the first meeting, she constantly hit release if we became too close—as though she was casting out the line, awarding too much slack, and overall uncertain of any net to aquatic life encounter. Like each time last minute she'd question: Do I really want fish for dinner?

Little did I know, I would be learning the reasoning behind that method today. It was not a chase or game, like certain people enjoyed playing with the other's emotions—a fact that genuinely made me relieved.

No... I would momentarily discover a wall, or rather boulders set jaggedly beneath the ocean surface Yona cast in.

"Mr. Nobody Really?"

I turned towards the smooth, masculine voice and found Charles Yaxley. Fiddling with the bag in my hands—a food container that Yona had lent me—I gave him a curt nod.

"You really should be more careful in your disguises around here. These people stalk your kind like vultures, Charles whispered leaning into my shoulder to wrap his arm around my neck. "Come with me. Vipers hide among the weeds. Did you enjoy dessert at Yona's this weekend?"

Even if I wanted to, I didn't get the chance to respond.

Sudden as a jackhammer, Charles stiffened and breathed, "Tora Shacklebolt. Shite. Hide now, Potter." Charles shoved me away, waltzing over to a tall blonde man dressed in a set of classy dress robes.

"Oi, Shacklebolt. I thought that was your ugly mug." I heard Charles state as casually as inquiring about the weather. "Stalking Yona now, I see."

"Yaxley," the man acknowledged Charles warmly, ignoring the later statement. "I'm meeting Yona in a few, actually."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Does she know that, Tora?"

"Of course," Tora Shacklebolt chuckled as though Charles told a hilarious joke. But there was a pretentious undertone. "I've also been rekindling my relationship with the Scamander's—"

"I know Lorcan didn't tell you Yona's whereabouts. Nor Lysander," Charles interrupted him. "Cut the crap act, Tora. Yona's not coming back to you."

"She will. She loves me. It was a mistake. A misunderstanding," Tora gritted his teeth, fisting the material of his trouser pockets to conceal his irritation.

Charles laughed almost hysterically, "A misunderstanding! Ha! Mate, you would need buckets of holy water to purge your sins."

"I'm done prattling on with you, Yaxley. It's been a pleasure as always. Excuse me," Tora removed himself from the conversation but not before I witnessed a callous smirk cross his handsome face.

Charles huffed, "Crazy fuckin Gemini." He pulled me by the arm around the corner nearby the agency's café. "Got his head so far up his arse that he doesn't realize Yona would rather splash wine in that dashing face than accept an invitation of his princely company."

Tora Shacklebolt's looks were clearly an asset he was well aware of, for he sent anyone a charming smirk the moment he noticed gawking. Also it payed to mention that Shacklebolt is a highly regarded and respected family name.

The elevator dinged softly in the background, while Charles and I crouched next to a potted plant and witnessed Yona revealed from behind the sliding metal doors.

A quick survey of the lobby and Yona's mouth popped open in awareness of Tora's presence. "W—what the hell are _you_ doing here?! Are you the one who called me down?" Needless to say, she wasn't pleased with the arrangement.

"Yes," Tora affirmed, stepping towards her with a slight, gentlemanly bow. "I've miss you, my love." Taking advantage of her stunned appearance, the blonde man tousled his short hair with one hand while the other sought Yona's wrist. "Missed your touch, voice, the feel of you..."

She snorted in his charming face. "Yes, yes. A prize to be used and pushed around," she finished and pushed away from him, angrily. "Go sell that to one of your concubines. You're such a piece of shit, Tora."

Wait... _concubines_?

A dark smirk stretched across Tora's face—princely air evaporating like a punctured, leaking balloon.

"You loved me once. Still do, in fact," Tora said, voice low and dangerous. The man raised his hand to Yona's cheek and laid it there softly. But the casual, gentle touch appeared different to me—as though it were as painful as a slap across the face. The tenseness in my shoulders intensified the more I observed Yona and Tora's body language.

"I'm sure a lot of women have loved the Ravenclaw Prince but it's nothing to rejoice over," she hissed back. "You're true face and candor are grotesque."

"So you think my gentleman's face is attractive?" he asked, smugly.

Yona shook her head frantically and frowned when her cheeks began to heat up. "No? That's not what I saw when I fucked you all those times. My hand fisted in your pretty red hair." He stroked her cheek.

Yona glared back at Tora, gray eyes feral. "I left you that pretty red hair that you loved so damn much, Tora. I wouldn't be surprised if you still stroked it every night like the witch in Rapunzel, you opulent disgusting snake of a human being."

The gentleman's smile fell and he removed his hand from Yona's cheek, clasping her chin roughly with the same hand. My insides churned, stepping forward to intervene from where Charles and I were hiding.

However, Charles pulled me back and shushed me, "Trust her." A heaviness of dread overwhelmed me yet I obediently idled.

"If I'm so repulsive how did I make you moan so much? How did I have you accustomed to being on your knees?" he said smoothly, trailing his thumb suggestively against her lips. Then he chuckled mockingly at Yona's shocked expression.

Charles fisted the back of my shirt to keep me from moving into action. Calm blue eyes advised me to be patient.

"Unbelievable, prick," she hissed eyes narrowed to slits.

"Yes I do," he replied, chuckling lightly. "Now we need to talk."

"Oh we are done talking," Yona clarified, throwing her hands up in the air as she walked pass him. "Fucking nonsense."

When Yona put her back to him, Tora jerked his hand up and snatched her upper arm, steering her body back to him.

Tora cocked his head and smirked at her, pushing strands of dirty blonde hair out of his golden, cat-like eyes. "Nonsense? We have a child together. That's not insignificant."

A couple of steps toward her and Tora was pressed half a metre away. Instinctively cagey, Yona stepped back only to stumble into a bench from behind. The man that caused her behavior chuckled under his breath.

Utterly pissed, Yona pushed him away, swallowing thickly. "Touch me again, you prat, and I'll cut up more than all your clothes." Gray eyes blazed into the gold orbs in front of her. "Oh yeah, come to me with that father of the year bullshit when you actually remember her birthday."

Leaving him shell-shocked, Tora stood with his hand held out towards the elevator Yona disappeared in. Clenching his fists, the blonde man stormed out the exit before combustion.

Charles nudged me lightly on the shoulder. "Go after her now, perverse space alien prince. She'll definitely need some...comfort."

"Comfort?" The question fell out of my mouth as Charles slapped his ID badge against my palm. He mumbled something about security procedures. "And I'm not perverted."

"Yup. You, my friend, might need a hard hat, though." Charles winked at me, knocking against the top of his head with his fist.

With that, I moved quickly to the elevator.

"Oops," I heard Charles mutter to himself as I stepped into the elevator. "Perhaps I should have warned him about the pictures..."

 **Yona's POV:**

It was no use—the lack of concentration swirling around in my brain peaked a mountain of creative blockage. Usually, I could recover from this type of interaction through drawing, or writing, but not this time. "Fucking asshole," my teeth gritted, while my fingers tossed my pencils down and shoved the storyboard away.

Perhaps it was expected that I could not sketch properly when inadvertently comparing two men that swarmed my life. Glancing down at the sketch of the Potter Prince—at James—all I could translate was distress. The studded crown hung above my desk sagged in disappointment. Pent up, I threw my eraser at it to watch it bounce back and forth between the collage of pictures, drawings, and storyline plots scattered upon my wall.

Did I fail to mention they were all of James? Well, my sweet summer child, they were indeed. I was the sole creator of the dubbed nickname—The Potter Prince. Something I'd failed to reveal to James, of course, because he'd definitely sprint away as if a fire were lit under his arse. His extremely fit arse, which I covered like glue.

Huh, that sounded weird.

Closing my eyes, the masochist dwelling deep inside called up a foggy vision of Tora and how handsome he looked—his body was lean but muscular, constantly tense as if calculating every step carefully. His face was angular, cloaked regal airs and devastating eyes that were mistakenly charming.

If I had masochist tendencies, my ex had the black hole of a sadist's heart. But it was Tora Shacklebolt's eyes that sent a confused shiver down my spine—emitting intelligence, raw power and control, and charm. He could charm the gold-woven pants off of a Niffler—a talent that once produced awe in me.

Now, it just left me ill. Niffler's don't even wear pants.

Or maybe it was the fact I knew exactly what sort of guys to distrust thanks to Tora. Romance had come to a complete halt after our separation; with a child and work I had no time to yearn for personal fairytales.

However James seemed to be a relatively open book whenever I asked questions, no matter how personal or difficult—aside from the mysterious handcuffs extravaganza. Through my life with Tora, on the other hand, subjects would change as quickly as possible if he disagreed with it. And Merlin forbid on pressing disagreeable topics, which caused him to become livid and demanded silence. With James, we debated on disagreements, argued playfully even, and respected each other's opinions. Even if those opinions were stupid.

"Whoa," a voice spoke after creaking open the door. It didn't take long for me to spot James at the door just a few feet away, his dark hair tied up in a small ponytail and his fingers drumming against the office door. Unfortunately, his eyes were focused behind me on the collage of—well, him.

Throat unbearably dry, I gulped quite audibly. Shite.

James entered the room—a smirk gracing his face—and examined 'The Potter Prince' board. He whistled low, "You're a bit of a creep, aren't you?"

The blush on my face was severe; silent and vaguely mortifying. How did he even manage to get up here?

Apparently I spoke out loud, and caused James' smirk to intensify. Lifting a hand, he proudly waved Charles ID badge before sitting on the side of my desk.

"Yaxley," I groaned at the ceiling, picturing him somewhere sneezing at my words. "That baka* doesn't know when to quit."

James sighed calmly, eyes pinned on the depressing drawing of him in front of me. "You know...I'm a little confused. Why won't you go out on a date with me?" He gestured at all the James Potter themed memorabilia as if to stake his case. It was undeniable; it looked like I sported a massive, stalkerish infatuation with him.

Clearly I was going to have to level with him. "James. I manage the entirety of The Potter Prince," I breathed wearing a slight wince. "I basically draw and sell your arse every day."

"Hmmm. Every day?" He sounded amused, cocking his head to the side as he bent closer to me—flat across the desk in a manner I'd now visualize every day working. "What about weekends?"

"Weekends?" Clearly he was not taking this seriously.

"Well yeah," James shrugged, lifting an arm to swing the studded crown back and forth. "I could be your personal muse on weekends. I could be that right now even. I'm sensing some reciprocal fancying."

I had every intention of fixing him with a bewildered expression—truthfully unable to fathom his lack of reaction to the confession about my career. But then my eyes fell on his face...

His lips looked so soft and warm. I wanted to kiss them over and over. "Yona?" James' mouth addressed my straying fingers, causing me to jump away from tracing those lips.

I backed away, voice firm "No. James you need to listen to what I just told you." I was as much of a hazard to his privacy as he was to mine. And if Madam Patil caught wind of this secret, bizarre disguise of Mr. Nobody Really she would attempt to use me to sell him.

James slid off the desk quietly, walked over to my chair, and leaned forward to cage me in between his arms. "Tell me again, princess."

He caressed my cheek with his right hand, thumb stroking beneath my eyes—lightly grazing the bottom lashes as he listened. I explained the reasons and concerns for everyone—his family and mine.

"So you're worried I'm about to be sold into a sort of Quidditch advertisement slavery? Scary." His tone amused. "Man, that's a new excuse. I'm afraid it won't keep my Nana away from you, though. Much less dad."

I paled at the mention of the Savior of the Wizarding World, mildly hyperventilating. "Oh, I'm certain you'll be tired of me way before the meet the parents decision," my voice replied, sarcastically.

James sat up fully, his face twisted in complete disbelief. His hand released my cheek. "Excuse me?"

"This is serious—"

"So am I!" He protested, outrage sparking in his eyes. "I told you I'd wait patiently because I like you and I meant it. I'm not like—" He broke off, instant regret filling his posture.

I blinked up at him, taken aback and then stiffened at the last bit. "Not like who?" I dared ask.

He flinched. "Nothing—"

In quick decision, I calmly implored him, "You meant Tora Shacklebolt, did you not? My ex," my tone monotonous—as though _his_ name was a grocery item opposed to the father of my child.

James took off his glasses, rubbed a hand over his face and lidded his dread-filled eyes. "Yona, please, I didn't mean to pry."

"You saw me downstairs," I realized, noting Charles' absence. Sure, it was after employee hours but the prat had left behind his bag and badge. It all clicked together. "That's why Char gave you the badge."

"I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. But there is no way in hell I'll get tired of you," James murmured into my ear after pulling me against his chest—that thumped in my ear like ocean waves in a shell. "Just give me a chance."

It's funny to consider these strong arms embracing me so securely were the same ones depicted on charmed paper—holding broomsticks, armed with a Quaffle, dancing in the wind... They felt so much better in real life.

Perhaps that's why emotions were triggered inside me to the point where my eyes watered.

Attempting to hide my state, I turned my head to the side, closing my eyes as I nuzzled into James' shirt. A sniffle slipped from my lips into the fabric, trying to stop the tears that were undoubtedly cascading down my cheeks.

James hugged me closer. "Princess?" His hand smoothing gently over my hair. "I'm so sorry if I pushed to hard."

"N-no. It's not that." I shook my head, rubbing my cheek against his heartbeat. This man was so unbelievably kind sometimes, so much it hurt.

He let out a breath of air, "Then what is it?"

Releasing a deep breath, I paused before letting out, "This is frightening, James. I-I might...I might, that is I could fancy—" I bit my lip hard, uncertain if I wanted to do this now.

Shock filled widened eyes glazed over at James' hands on my face as the man holds my chin gently silently urging me to look at him.

"Honestly, I'm struggling here, princess."

My gaze locked onto his lips again, pressing him to give me more. "Struggle?"

The hand on my chin brushed a warm thumb against my lips—burning a hot trail that I craved to taste. "Even now. I worry if I can be a proper gentleman and treat you nicely... because honestly, after how cute you act, more than anything I want to kiss the hell out of you."

Yet another graze of his thumb to on my bottom lip finally drove me over the edge. Capturing the pad softly between my teeth, I dragged my eyes back up to James' hazel ones.

James groaned, leaned forward to press his forehead against mine, and breathed, "Yona. I'm going to kiss you. If you don't want this, please shove me away."

I did not stop him. As James pressed his slightly parted lips against mine, it tasted of ocean and wetness.

It felt like being submerged underwater, and after the kiss was over my breath panted like one saved from drowning. I traced my lips, feeling quite confused from it.

Surely, a kiss didn't change anything. In fairy tales there was a kiss then happily ever after but this is reality so it does not work that way.

My mouth refused speech, while my fingers could only touch my lips and looked down at the floor. So badly I wished not to look like a fool.

Hours ago, my mind had craved for the man rooted against me, but now he waited in front of me and I was not sure I wanted the forbidden fruit that he offered. If I took a bite, I'd be lost forever—pulled under by a foreign spell or poison.

I knew because I accepted the apple from the peddler before, tasted the wish and lived to regret.

"What is it? Does this feel wrong?" James said, leaning closer to my ear, his voice whispering, his breath on my neck making shivers run all over me again. This man was dangerous to be around, and I was consumed by his image daily; why the hell did I think this was going to work? Nonetheless, believe for a second that it could work out in my favor. I was an idiot; baka.

I eyed the ground below me. "I could ruin you, Potter Prince."

"I wouldn't agree if I didn't want it too, right?" He said, voice in the most gentle tone I had never heard before. "You have me hanging by a string, suspended in the air outside a tower—feeling like there is no where to go but up."

"So fucking cheesy." I shook my head with a smile, "You don't know what you're asking for, you perverted alien."

"Touché." James answered automatically, shifting his gaze once again on the wall collage at my desk. "I didn't know so much of me could be so frightening." He reached for his specs, which were neatly folded on top of my laptop.

Slapping his hand away, I smiled at the confused expression on his face. Despite the countless moving images I had inspected of James Potter sans specs, the live version looked vulnerable. I liked that openness, and the vulnerability made me want to pounce on him.

He whispered my name, tone soaked in raw emotion. "Yona?"

There was something about how he looked at me that left me breathless. "Yeah?"

"Next time I'm going to give you a real kiss that'll make your knees weak," James informed in a low, husky tone. "Make sure to brandish your sword if you don't want that, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, yeah."

James flashed a grin, unhooking the studded crown hanging over my desk. As I was about to question his actions, he placed the crown on top his head and winked.

 **A/N:**

Thank you for all the views! I'm glad for all the dedicated reads and new followers and favoriters for this story. Review please!

Things are definitely heating up and I'm fired up to write a hot scene between James and Yona. Anyhoo, thanks for reading!

*baka means idiot in Japanese.

-Meg


	9. One with the Demented Fairy Godmother

**I don't own Harry Potter!**

 **Yona's POV:**

Cinderella never had to take off her damn dress, or show a little skin to claim the Prince. Her shoe maybe—which should have been used to knock the bloke upside the head, in my opinion—but Cinderella remained classy at the ball.

Right now, I could not decide whether my boss fit the evil stepmother role or a demented casting of the fairy godmother.

It was all rather appalling.

Madam Patil merely giggled into her palm and said, "The best impact calls for intel, Yon darling. One must look the part to step up to such a task."

Inspecting the short dress the woman neatly deposited into my lap, I resisted a laugh. My mother, who was the uptight and traditional sort, would be inspired to a swooning fit and faint. No respectable lady wore trousers, let alone a scandalous attire such as this after all.

Opening my mouth to politely reject the ideals of job prostitution, Madam Patil held up a hand and stopped me. "Kindness is the best sort of quality," she commented, a grin twitched at the corner of her mouth, and a hand slid a ticket towards me. "Box seat next to Freddie Weasley. Very difficult to acquire."

Scary bitch.

I shot her a quick look of dismay. "Does it have to be me?" I muttered, darkly. Madam Patil schemed as much as she breathed.

Fairy godmother. Stepmother. Fairy godmother. Step mother. The hand on the metronome swung in indecision.

"Of course, Yon darling. Someone has to fish Weasley out of the closet, or so gossip breeds." The vindictive grin on her face churned my stomach. "And that Prince needs drawn, so work you're magic."

Regardless of indecision, my boss was demented.

...

 **Setting: Montrose Magpies Stadium Entrance**

 **Time: 3 Hours Later**

"Miss, you appear quite lost."

To my surprise, a cloaked figure approached me from a shadowed side entrance. An unwanted blush spread across my cheeks as I realized he was far too close to not notice my attire.

Surrendering my open palms, I admitted, "You caught me. First time with box seats, sadly. And I'm directionally challenged."

Fuckin hell, I sounded like a damsel in distress. Somebody shoot me with Obliviate.

The man nodded politely, pushing back his hood to reveal a face that mirrored the Savior of the Wizarding World in youth. Immediately my brain processed that I was facing Albus Potter.

Those penetrating emerald eyes raked over my attire, paused briefly on the ID badge that identified me as part of the press, and then settled on my face. Albus spoke in disbelief, "You're Yona?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Y—yes. I am. Why do you ask? I don't believe we've been personally acquainted."

"My brother speaks highly and discreetly about you," Albus said honestly, tone heavily monotonous. We hadn't been two minutes into the conversation and he appeared to be borderline narcoleptic. "Didn't know you worked the Potter Prince circuit, though." He nodded at my ID badge, which Madam Patil had sealed with the Potter Prince crest—a tasteful yet modest studded golden crown. "Mum's reaction to _that_ will be enjoyable."

That assessment was fairly predictable. I'd envisioned Ginny Potter catapulting me out of the highest window on numerous occasions.

"Err," I tried intelligently and sighed. "Right. Best hopes on that being avoided, ya? Sooo about the box seats—should I ask someone else for assistance?"

After looking at my ticket, Albus cringed before releasing a chuckle. "Come with me," he said, failing to resist the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Whaaa?" Albus didn't bother answering me and grabbed my wrist so that I trailed behind him. Without warning, the black haired sod jumped us into Apparition and my stomach lurched and screamed.

Once we landed, my legs crumbled underneath me. How long had it been since I experienced Disapparate and Apparate? Years passed since discovering that Mikasa had an aversion to it.

Albus ignored my whining and knocked on the door behind us. "Jem Jem isn't ready for locker room yet," a voice responded from within. Why was Freddie...?

"Don't really care about the prat's incessant game day preparations. Is he decent, Freddie?" Albus leaned against the door as he inquired, tapping the toe of his shoe against the wood.

There was a rumble from within and Albus managed to leap backwards before the door opened, revealing an indignant James dressed in uniform Montrose Magpies quidditch robes. "What is it, Al—? Whaaa?!" His tone significantly changed from peeved to stunned when he noticed me idled behind his brother.

Albus smirked, tossing a careless hand in my direction. "Look what I found searching for box seats beside Freddie."

I glared at Albus, feeling foolishly aware of my scant attire yet refusing to allude discomfort. Instead I clicked my heels together and squared my shoulders, a last ditch effort at confidence.

"Yona," James breathed with a beautiful grin that lifted my heart until it felt feather-light. The embarrassment momentarily slipped away. "You look ra—"

"Why the hell do you look like a strumpet?!" Freddie demanded, frantically pulling me into the room. "Honestly, don't you know that James' parents come to these things?"

Next to me, James' entire body stiffened. Swallowing down the returned embarrassment, I growled, "Oh shut it, I didn't have a choice wearing this so I really don't want to hear it. Besides I can wear whatever I want."

Freddie started to argue but James held up a hand, body now relaxed again, and gestured towards me. "She looks fine, Freddie. Don't be a jerk." He turned back to me with a smile and added, "If you get cold though... use this." Reaching behind him, James handed me a black and white jumper etched with the Montrose Magpies crest.

The fabric felt warm and soft. My first instinct was to bury my face into it and inhale—as though it was a nostalgic momento to relieve stress. Resisting that urge, I hugged it to my chest and bowed my head appreciatively. "Thank you," my voice soft—almost weak and unrecognizable. "Though your cousin is atrociously poor mannered." In an air of snooty decorum that prided my mother, my nose lifted in the air and I tried to appear haughty.

Instead of being affronted, James choked out a laugh. "Ah, I must confess that I find it distressing for family to be lowered to disagreeable. Unfortunately, I'm also unable to argue with your sentiments. Perhaps I'll rectify this dark mark by inquiring about your health, or the little sprite that recently wrecked my specs?"

The past weekend, Mikasa had somehow stowed James' specs in her room in order to "improve them." The result was as calamitous as expected: The pair of spectacles covered in glitter, permanent glue, and charmed butterflies that resembled eyelashes.

And of course no spell worked to fix the mess my gleeful daughter made after she proudly presented her artwork. Honestly, I should have experienced a premonition based on how dead quiet Mikasa played in her room at the time.

"Oh, very well," I folded my arms and feigned disgust. "Since you insisted on bringing _that_ up." I paused, remembering to give James Mikasa's formal apology. "I'm apparently partial to disagreeable relations as well, so here is my lovable daughter's token of apology." I handed him the folded up parchment.

James feigned an expression of affronted dignity but it crumbled into a wide grin as he examined the parchment. "Have you looked at this, princess?"

I wearily shook my head, regret dripping into my veins. What had my troublesome girl done now? "Why?"

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but she's offering you up for trade." The gravity of his expression was trampled by the gleam of amusement in his hazel eyes. "A date to be exact. To appease any slighted feelings for my ruined specs."

I reached for the parchment, visibly paling. "She didn't," I denied the very thought yet groaned when I read the musings of my daughter confidently written in red crayon.

"She did," James answered baldly, "and might I speculate that Mikasa will make a fine businesswoman?" He tried very hard to remain solemn, but failed miserably, his expression dissolving rapidly into laughter. The man looked like he was just delivered a basket of kittens.

"Maybe if I were cattle," I grumbled, tempted to smile. "I should be more concerned about my five-year-old potentially trafficking me."

"Not very sporting, I'm afraid." He reached out to caress and rustle the top of my head affectionately, ruffling hair into a disarray. Great, now I probably looked like someone that romped around between the sheets. "But you'd be in good hands. I assure you of that. You have nothing to fear from me."

My cheeks blushed hotly.

"Barf," Freddie interrupted our growingly intimate exchange.

Freddie and Albus looked sickened by our banter. "What have you _done_ to him?" Albus asked in disbelief before turning to Freddie, who ruefully remarked that James was a goner.

James threw his gloves at them, "Shut it, you bloody wankers!"

"Language Jem Jem," Freddie protested in a suitably prim voice, "Were we not taught to be polite? What would your parents say?"

James noticeable stiffened and fell silent, casting a glare at Freddie.

Curiosity brimmed within me, and I recalled his similar reaction at the mention of his parents. "Are you actually nervous your parents are coming?"

It was the first time I saw a troubled, almost panicked expression on his face. The squeeze on my heart politely informed me of the land mine I had stepped on.

A knock sounded on the door, delivering the worst possible case of bad timing. "James? It's mum," a light feminine voice called from the other side of the door. "Can we come in?"

Everyone in the room eyed me, but Freddie took it upon himself to shove me and him into the nearby closet. A quick cast of _Muffliato_ and we were concealed.

"Excuse me," James murmured and bowed his head politely before opening the door for his parents.

"It feels like ages since we've all managed to come together for one of your matches," Ginny confessed wearily, and tucked strands of ginger hair behind her ear. "I apologize for our short notice of arrival. But we cannot wait to see you play."

Harry clapped his son on the shoulder, squeezing lightly and smiled. "We look forward to your performance, James." It was as if his father was referring to a music recital, or a benign form of entertainment.

I had assumed having famous parents was tough, but damn. It was cringeworthy, almost suffocating to watch. All the while, James was fraying—slowly wearing down like pressured violin strings.

"I will do my best to not disappoint your expectations. Please enjoy," James bowed his head politely with a smile. In the pit of my stomach, a knot of tension coiled at the exchange. That was not his genuine smile—it was a gentleman's—and it damn near broke my heart.

"He's so formal and polite with his parents," I acknowledged quietly to Freddie under my breath.

Freddie exhaled and nodded, "Yes, and that evidence has always been damning. He's their first, after all."

After exchanging brief farewells, James' parents departed with Albus. Meanwhile, after coming out of the closet, Freddie showed me to our seats.

Oh the irony.

Later across the distance of field, James' eyes found mine and I waved cheerfully—perhaps too enthusiastically because he sent me a strange look before laughing. He turned and made his way to the locker room, waving his arm like a fool.

There...I hoped some of that sadness in his expression would fade.

"Our family's legacy is striking," Freddie commented, calling for my attention. The goofy grin on his face was contagious. "But I have to admit it, Yona. I think you're very good for Jem Jem."

Folding my hands behind my head and leaned back into the seat, I rolled my eyes. "Please. You're just trying to butter me up to lay my best friend."

"I don't need you for that," Freddie replied sticking out his tongue, yet the bravado didn't stop the light blush.

I playfully slapped his shoulder with a small laugh and he gave a small smile in return. His face now beet red. "My my, Freddie don't say such lewd things if your face cannot take the heat."

Freddie actually laughed, with evident satisfaction. "It's true," he answered.

I waved a dismissive hand, unmoved by his declaration. "Ya ya" I added and dug into my bag for my camera. "If you don't mind, I have work to do so, please, refrain from pointless chatter or I'll be hounded by my boss later." I snapped at few shots of the field, bending to capture an upward angle of the sky.

What kind of storyboard could I design out of this day?

Freddie raised an eyebrow at my formal tone and awkward posturing for the awe inspiring photography.

Once the match started, Freddie began to comment on my various body contortions for capturing angled shots. "Alright, I've got to ask. What the hell is your job? You haven't attempted to pry a single answer from me, and I'm gathering your boss wants you to."

Cheering as James made another successful goal, I snapped another picture before replying to Freddie. "Gathering coconuts is what it sounds like," I said, sarcastically. Ridiculous.

Ruffling the back of his hair while sending me a dumbfounded look, Freddie asked, "You're job is to gather coconuts?"

I stared at Quidditch pitch and considered, "It might as well be" and after a bit of resignation added, "But actually, Madam Patil is questioning which team you bat for."

"Team I bat for?" It was like I stabbed him with a needle. "Like Quidditch?"

I vaguely wondered if he was playing dumb or blissfully ignorant. "Homosexuality," my voice pressed casually for clarification on an already known subject. "Or bisexuality, if that sort of thing fits your fancy."

"Alright!" Freddie shot up to his feet like folded up ironing board and glanced above us. "Ahh butterbeer is being served," his tone a tad high-pitched than normal. "Want anything from the trolley?"

"Just water would be appreciated," I assured him and handed him coins for purchase.

When Freddie brought over a bottle of water, I offered an appreciative smile but barely looked at the way he was watching me, how his eyes tried to glean some sort of emotion, any sort of reaction from my face or intentions. In the end, through flushed cheeks, Freddie grumbled, "You already know. Why ask me?"

I raised my eyebrows and frowned, "Work is work, and I don't tell Madam Patil everything. Char is important to me and Mikasa. I only ask that you don't play with him. He's like family."

Freddie carelessly twisted off the bottle cap of the Butterbeer, sloshing some onto the ground. "I could say the same for you. Be good to James. He _is_ family."

"Didn't you say I was already?"

Finally meeting my eyes, Freddie swallowed deeply and gave a pained smiled. "I hoped that to be the case. Jem Jem, unfortunately, has bad luck."

As he finished the statement, James scored another flawless goal. The Potter Prince was on fire.

Bad luck, huh?

Freddie intuitively read my expression. "When people merely glance at James at face value, they fail to notice...limitations." He paused considering his choice of words. As if acknowledging a serious blunder, Freddie flicked my ID badge and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "That crown is going to come at a cost in the presence of Aunt Ginny.

Suddenly chilled by the atmosphere, I shrugged on James' jumper fully comprehending how much dread came with Freddie's comment.

...

The final score favored the Montrose Magpies overwhelmingly. Their many outstanding players reflected the sheer talent that made the Magpies the most successful team in the history of the British and Irish League.

And The Potter Prince was largely responsible for that extended victory. I had expected dangerous fireworks, players prepared for inebriation, or at least excitement. It's too bad that prided congratulations fell on deaf ears.

For James that is...because he looked like someone snapped his broom in half and turned him into a Muggle.

Freddie's face was severe, masked in a forced calm. "What did your mom talk to you about after match?"

I watched as his posture stiffened, burying his face in his hands. "She admired my skills developing so quickly, and insisted on my participation in a charity event—playing beside her in a tourney—that will take place in a month."

We had gathered at James' apartment and I'd missed an interaction with his mother when I left to change. It also was a supervised visit day for Mikasa at Luna's house, so I didn't get the chance to grill my daughter on trying to offer me up for a date either. Tora was enough for my daughter to deal with, after all, and I prayed he wouldn't cause anymore disappointment in her life.

So much disappointment being strewn around.

"Not good...no good," James muttered, staring numbly at the bandage one his left hand. He'd not emerged from the win unscathed. It was clear that something was wrong. "I need to be better than this."

"That will heal. And it's just a tourney, Jem Jem," Freddie joked and nudged James' shoulder. "What'd you tell her?"

James squeezed his hands together, tension escalating in a clasp of fingers. "I declined. And apologized that I'm not at the level yet to play beside her."

Grim faced, Freddie said, "James..."

"You dummy," I accused, waving my finger at James. "Anyone with eyes could see that you're talented. You were scouted as a second year for crying out loud. We saw you play today!"

"It wasn't good enough," he spat at the floor. "I managed to take a bludger to the hand, once again. I'm not good enough!"

Staring at James, it was clear to see that my world was completely different from his. He is in a world so distant and far away from mine.

"James..?" My tone was uneasy, betraying any attempt at soothing him.

James' light chuckle turned into a laugh, a sarcastic one. A chink in the armor. "I've always been this way but I've learned to keep it hidden behind a wall. But you want to know what is going on, right? Hmm, let's see... Huu, I don't get control of my life a lot of the time. I'm messed up and filthy."

The violin strings he'd been sawing at finally snapped.

 **James' POV:**

"I—I...don't," I panted and released a painful exhale.

Something twisted violently in me and I stopped, blindly grasping at my chest. It hurt to breathe and my heart was beating way too fast.

"Shite James. Where is it?" Freddie shook my wavering attention—a blur in my peripheral vision.

Through slightly glazed eyes, I captured the concerned look on Yona's face. Two pools of gray stunned into silence. That picture was briefly clicked into my mind before I pitched forwards, and Yona quickly caught and eased me to the floor. "James! What is it?"

Glancing over to Freddie I wheezed out, "Bottom drawer" and tried to catch my breath but it was painful to take a deep breath. The loud sound of Freddie rummaging filled the room.

Shaken, I realized how long it had been since I last experienced an asthma attack. Fuckin hell, it was fourteen years ago.

Freddie paled. "Here. Your inhaler," he choked, swallowing down his own panic and pushing the inhaler eagerly into my hand.

After giving it a quick shake, I took a breath through it, and another through trembling fingers. Eyes pinched closed, I held it as long as I could then desperately panted for breath. The minutes that flew by felt like hours.

Finally, I started to breathe normal, despite my embarrassment. Glancing over at Yona, I sighed, "Sorry about that."

Yona patted my head lightly, smoothing the disheveled, ebony locks with gentleness. Then, her movements froze, and she smacked me upside the head. "Idiot." It was quiet for a little then she spoke up again. "Don't ever apologize for something like this, James." The worry written in her eyes was evident.

A veil of melancholy overwhelmed me, and I held my injured hand to examine it. "I've broke this hand more times than I can count. Despite the wonders of magic, each time it infuriates and frightens me. A horror, bore straight into my heart."

Yona's gray eyes harbored no judgment.

"There's always a little voice in my head that says, 'I'll make it so you can never play again.' Often I've wondered if that's what I want—a method of escape. To quit Quidditch. It's disgusting—the cowardice and flaws within me."

Yona stared at me, an indescribable expression in her eyes. "I see. Well, I'm afraid I cannot aide your misery." Shock colored my face, as dread settled into my stomach, and I watched her parted lips continue. "I like that part about you. The flaws that make you 'filthy;' was it? Well when you're sordid and wounded, I cannot help but care about you."

"Wha—? Why would you?" I lowered my eyes to stare at my hands.

"If you think of people as filthy and inferior because of flaws and doubts than I'm also a disgusting mess. So much so that cleansing me is impossible."

I stared at her, taken back. "No—"

"You're human, James. Regardless of parentage or expectations, we all bleed the same. Some are just more wounded than others," she said, voice firm and unyielding. Placing a hand gently on my shoulder, she squeezed the taut muscle lightly and smiled. "Give yourself a break."

My eyes flickered away from hers, contemplating my situation with Quidditch. To myself mostly, I whispered, "Who do I play for anymore?"

"Yourself," Yona's voice brimmed with conviction. "Don't let anyone else tell you how to live your life, James. It's got to be for yourself."

"Thank you Yona," I said honestly, grasping her wrist as she climbed to her feet. "Seriously."

Flashing a bright smile, Yona spoke as soft as a hum, "Anytime."


	10. All Kinds

**I don't own Harry Potter**!

Sooo slight M rating heating up ;)

 **Yona's POV:**

Hogwarts 6th Year

" _These are exceptionally beautiful, Tora," I whispered to the boy beside me and brought the cluster of sapphire roses to my nose. "Thank you for inviting me out."_

 _Tora watched me with soft golden eyes and I inevitably thought that that this was the first person to ever make me feel utterly special. He treated me as the princess my mother expected me to be; and, for once, the very idea wasn't suffocating. I was a precious person to someone. No—not just someone—I was precious to a Prince._

 _Gentle and smiling, Tora took one of the roses and tucked it behind me ear in the same vein an enamored prince acted towards their princess in fairy tales. A sweet smelling flower bud finally blooming under the haze of romance. It probably appeared strange against my long, red hair._

 _It probably looked stupid. Filled with self-consciousness, I fiddled with the locks listlessly._

 _"I was actually worried about today." Tora admitted from beneath his eyelashes, looking rather shy. "It's must be troublesome to take a chance on me. All the attention...sorry about that. But I couldn't help fancying you." He reached out a hand, twirling a finger affectionately around a curl of my hair. He mouthed the word 'lovely' and my heart raced._

 _Returning a smile of my own shyly, I touched the flower and believed, 'this Prince could be the one' and 'How did I get so lucky?'_

Present

I considered all the fairy tales I had mused over as a child to escape the tower of expectations where my mother confined me. It was a nice thought to have someone save me and to be treated preciously, like an ardently admired princess.

I sighed, snapping out of the past memory of me and Tora's honeymoon stage of romance. The relationship had been a dream, sweet and uncertain of what the future would bring. A morning dew scattered wetness that promised new beginnings—only to be washed away. It had been a hope for change; a chance to be valued.

Before it all crumbled to hell.

I had witnessed the darker half of a prince persona yet expressed the will to try again. And with another damned prince at that. Was James similar in that respect?

Shaking my head in denial, I rationalized that James' character was beyond the superficial admiration he got from fangirl swooning. Was it possible to be such a fraud that he'd to repress it behind a constant princely mask?

So far, despite the princely image and reputation, James was nothing like Tora.

Considering my experience with a blackened prince, I blinked around James' guest room and finally noticed someone knocking lightly on the door.

"Hey," James greeted me after getting permission to open the door. "Is it still alright for you to stay over? I wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated or anything."

I shook my head and gave him a small smile, "It should be fine. Mikasa's not with me for today anyways."

James rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Good good," he said and fiddled with a stack of fabric in his hands. "I brought some clothes for you to wear if you want something more comfortable for bed."

Nodding appreciatively, I accepted the clothes from his outstretched hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," James shrugged like it was no big deal. "So, where's your little monster tonight?"

My mind automatically hurtled to Mikasa and her supervised visit with her father. "Hopefully not being too disappointed," I sighed and combed fingers through my hair.

A look of concern filled James' features, ending with a creased frown. "You don't have to tell me but is there anything I can do?" A little apprehension creeped into his expression. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be okay, just dealing with a deadbeat dad at Luna's house for a supervised visitation. Thank you for the concern, though." I added with a small laugh, "It's really cute." He looked back to me briefly and I could tell a blush was starting to form on his cheeks as well.

James' eyes studied me and he smiled, "Yeah, well, you've definitely been a big help to me. I want to be there for you both as well. Remember that."

I shrunk down into the couch a little bit, embarrassment creeping in, "T-thanks. I didn't do much, I'm afraid."

"Don't be so modest," James teased, affectionately pushing on my shoulder after plopping down next to me on the couch. "I'll have to keep you here." The playfulness of his words dropped off near the end, insinuating seriousness into his intentions.

It unsettled me; a deadly cocktail of confusion and desire to reciprocate affections. Because James Potter demonstrated to be a good man, yet that fact frightened me. Overwhelmed me.

I didn't know what I wanted or what I was thinking.

"What do you see in someone like me?" I clenched my fists to prevent trembling but my voice still pathetically quivered, "It doesn't make sense."

"Someone like you?" The question barely passed his lips and James rubbed the back of his neck, fingers climbing to scratch his nape. "Why do you say it like it's a derogatory remark? I like you."

I waved a dismissive hand, "What kind of like is it, James?"

He appeared puzzled by the question. "What kind of...like? All kinds, Yona."

"But..." I swallowed and looked down. "Mikasa always comes first and then there's work complications, it's not feasible... I—don't think I can be what you want or need."

James reached up to cup my cheek and his eyes slowly lifted to capture mine. When he spoke his tone was serious, "Don't worry about things like that. That's not what I want. I just… Want to be with you. I like you and I think you like me. Isn't that enough of a miracle itself?"

Surprised I stared at him for a moment before relaxing against the warmth of his palm, questioning in disbelief, "Is that really all?" And why the hell _did_ he fancy me?

James nodded and gave a lopsided grin, "Well, I would really like the whole package but, if you'll have me, I'll wait. A-Anyways yeah, that's it. In the end I just want to be next to you."

Skimming the hand that cupped my cheek, I buried my face in my hands and breathed. "Yeah," I exhaled deeply and laughed. "Jeez, you're persistent."

"I'm beginning to think you disapprove of me," he offered yet did not seem much distressed about the possibility. James' eyes closed and he gave a tiny smile.

I remained quiet and unmoving, watching him carefully from beneath my lashes. I exhaled deeply, "I think...I want to be with you more."

A pair of hazel eyes popped open, gradually dilating with surprise. He dropped the hand cupping my cheek and my stomach fell, irrationally berating myself for the confession.

Before I pondered the possibility of moving away from him, James caught me around the waist—his arms wrapped around my middle tightly so that my face rested against his shoulder. However, the action was anything but smooth as their knees painfully knocked together.

"Ouch," I mumbled and rubbed my throbbing right knee. The twisted position James tugged me into didn't make it an easy task.

"Sorry," he apologized with a wince. "Did I hurt you badly?"

The sensation of his breath on my cheek, probably only a few inches away, was intoxicating. James smelled so good, and my brain recalled the taste of his mouth as well. If there was a time to brandish my sword, as James once pointed out, now would be the allotted time.

But I did not want to.

Instead, my head tilted upward to meet his lips and James immediately took the hint, initiating a soft kiss. However, when his lips met mine, a spark of static clung between us—jolting us out of the lip-lock with a collective groan.

After rubbing at my lips, I folded my arms and feigned disgust. "Aren't you supposed to be weakening my knees by now? Not causing me awkward bodily harm."

James released a laugh and I felt his chin rest a top my head, lips briefly pressed against my hairline. "No doubt you're right," he retorted with unquenchable cheerfulness. It made me want to bite him. When I released a dramatic sigh, he chuckled. "Let's try again, ya?"

I returned his smile as my hand trailed over his shoulder and behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair affectionately. He brushed his fingers down my side, setting aflame a trail of moans at his touch.

Smiling at my reaction, one by one he brought my arms around his neck and lifted me to straddle his lap. Then, appearing satisfied with the close arrangement, James' fingertips caressed my shoulders and traveled down over my sides. Those same hands that tossed a Quaffle forcefully then lingered, stroking up and down teasingly on my back, rib cage, and lower—fingers arching just before my arse.

Little by little James started his strokes higher and higher as he successfully worked skilled fingers up and down my spine—as though fine tuning an instrument. All over top the fabric of my shirt and, throwing my head backed, I craved more.

Before I overanalyzed again, I groaned, "Under." He abided my request eagerly and turned me around to better access the fingertips-to-skin contact.

My limbs were beginning to jellify while his fingertips made long passes along my spine, as the fingers of his other hand were stroking up and down my side.

It was amazingly sensual—loads better than the massager at home. If only this massager would navigate lower. Mmmmm... I couldn't help but relax back against his chest, sighing with pleasure.

James' hands felt so good on me.

It made me want to beg him to cover my eyes, take me to his bed, and do things with his hands and mouth that can drive me crazy—that can cause tears to flow down because of how good it all was; how good he felt against me.

Two comforting strong arms wrapped around me, as James rested his chin on my shoulder and leaned against me. "You feel so good" James groaned, squeezing me tighter for a moment.

"So do you" I returned in a whisper, carefully shifted my body, and brought our faces closer.

"Allow me," he continued in a whisper to my lips, and waited for me to nod. Once I did so, he leaned forward for a second kiss.

When I felt his soft and warm lips on mine again, I shivered under my clothes. I responded to the kiss happily. Desire sparking on a brush pile—dry and flammable. The few moments felt like a lifetime of drowning in each other's embrace, mouths gentle and crackling arousal.

He repositioned, moved himself to the crook of my neck and traced it with the tip of his tongue. He felt my back arch in his palm, as James alternated pressing open mouthed kisses and twirling his tongue from the sensitive spot below my right ear and down my neck.

James blew softly on the lobe of my ear, creating an involuntary quiver as a reaction. "Is there something you want, my princess?"

Attractive...my brain computed in overload, as my legs squirmed together.

I deliberately swung my arms around his neck, so I ended up pressing our bodies together. Finally his free hand moved around my waist and stayed there, while his lips returned to move slowly and gently around mine. It was sweet, so much so that my stomach filled with frantic butterflies, and—to my distaste—my knees went weak.

Finally I decided to throw caution to the wind and fully enjoy the experience. After James nibbled lightly on my bottom lip, our kiss turned hungry and combative—playing with each others tongues.

We broke the kiss seconds later.

"Please ," he said, desperation battling against concern. He was still holding my waist with a hand. "If you have your sword now would be—"

Placing a finger to James' swollen lips, I gazed at him. He too was flushed and his breathing was unsteady. He leaned forward, breathing hotly against my ear.

"Does the Potter Prince truly fancy a commoner?" I could barely muster the statement as a shiver ran down my spine once he teased my earlobe with his tongue.

"A commoner? I've tasted her," he replied while trailing his lips now down to my collarbone, "And she's remarkable—nothing common about her."

I smiled at the remark, ignoring the warning bells in my head. "So I taste good?"

"Mmm. Breathe, princess…," James reminded huskily between his kisses and nipped softly at my pulse point. My mouth released a lusty moan. But after half-opening my eyes, it was hazy yet strangely reassuring.

How long had it been? _Merlin_.

James returned his lips to mine and accepted his affection again. "But...You...were saying...?" I questioned faintly as his tongue repeatedly invaded my mouth, sucked on my bottom lip, and flicked up my top lip to tease me.

James suddenly pulled away from me, eliciting an involuntary whimper from my mouth. Immediately smirking, he hooked an arm beneath one knee followed by the other so my body was cradled in his lap while he chuckled. Then, with his free hand, he cupped my cheek and jaw. I shivered at the nearness—anticipation clogging all senses with James.

Bringing his mouth closer to the shell of my ear, James gave a tentative lick on the edge before he rasped lowly, "You're lovelier than anything. I would really like to taste even more of you."

Finally I gathered a fraction of sanity and asked, "What-"

I couldn't finish my question as he had suddenly covered my mouth with his. Our lips locked overwhelming me with blankness, something that was actually against my nature. I was a multitasker. However, currently, it was as though my brain cells were dead in that instant and weren't able to tell my body to push him away.

Not able to take it anymore, I reached out to grab one of his wrists, whispering softly, "Fuck, James." And I certainly wanted to—our compatibility so far was high in that department.

He reached out and touched my face, invoking a desire between them that left them needing more. "Took the words right out of my mouth," James panted, a seductive lowering of his voice.

Grabbing me once again around the waist, James pulled me flush against his chest. After situating me, he laid down on his side beside me and bent his left arm so he could rest his face against his hand while the elbow on the couch supported his weight.

It was clear the man could maneuver my body any way he wanted and not elicit discomfort, or awkwardness.

If I was reckless with my happiness, I could find myself in a world of trouble.

 **A/N:**

This chapter flowed really well, and I've been waiting for things to heat up! I hope it reflects well but I'm sure I missed something in my editing and reread.

Review please!


	11. Sickness with a Side of Gloomy

**I don't own Harry Potter**!

 **I thank you all ahead of time for the lovely reviews and follows/favorites for this story :) I always find myself more pumped to update if I see the story getting love.**

Now on with the story!

 **James' POV:**

 _Honestly, she isn't any better from last night. If anything her fever has gotten worse so I think I'm going to have to call off work. Our deadline is today for the storyboards, budgeting, and last minute touch ups before it goes over to the TV advertising team but it can't be helped. Tora irks me so much with his carelessness on top of it all. Sorry to vent._

I read the text message again with a wince, thinking of the hacking cough Mikasa developed after an overnight stay at her father's place. According to Yona, due to the significant progress over past months of supervised visitations, Tora was granted two overnight stays with Mikasa per month. A decision that clearly grated on Yona's overprotectiveness.

And, if this weekends stay was any consolation, Yona's concerns were well-placed. Apparently Tora had forgotten to bundle up Mikasa against a heavy rainstorm when the two ventured outside for dinner, and then failed to put her in a hot bath when they got home. "Poor Mikasa," I whispered as my finger lingered over the call button.

"Oi, Potter. Don't you have an interview scheduled today? Why are you still here?" Our team's seeker, Ren Jenkins, inquired with a smirk that deepened into a goofy grin when he glanced at my phone screen. "How doth thy fair, anonymous maiden?"

I ignored the jest with a roll of my eyes. "I'm calling to cancel," I finally decided. "Tell coach that something came up if he asks anything. Good practice today!"

"James! Wait a minute. Hey!"

Without a backwards glance, I'd stuffed everything required into my bag, pocketed my wand, and used apparition to loiter outside of Yona's apartment complex. Attempting to bury the uncertainty floating around in my head, my thumb hovered over the call button once more. "Come on, idiot. It's just a call," I breathed out and hit call. The worst she could say was no.

"James?" She sounded worried, frazzled even, and there was a crash followed by Mikasa crying in the background. "Shite—sorry about that. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Err, it's me..." I trailed off lamely and resisted face palming. _Merlin, of course she knows it's you, you prat._

"Mikasa, please, hold it together for like five more minutes," Yona spoke calmly and I could picture her signing away while making the plea. "James, still there?"

"Yeah," I confirmed and walked past the lobby to the elevator. "Are you? You sound stressed."

Yona chuckled but it sounded a bit desperate, borderline manic. "I think I need a sedative, or a glass of wine. Perhaps both. I got permission to work from home but, at this rate, it doesn't look like I'll get anything done."

"Hmm," I supplied sympathetically. Once the elevator dinged onto Yona's floor, I stepped out and leaned against the wall next to her door. At the early hour, it was like a ghost town.

Casually scratching my cheek, I added, "How about some help? I know it's sudden but I'm actually close by..." _Hopefully that doesn't make me sound like a stalker_ , I thought with a twinge in my chest. At least, no more than usual. "I can watch over of Mikasa while you go into work."

It wasn't that I had any doubts about helping Mikasa, it was more about Yona's reaction to the suggestion of leaving Mikasa in my care. Over the years as an elder sibling, I was considered fairly responsible and cared for many younger relatives. No matter how much Albus would adamantly deny that now, of course.

However, I also understood how Yona might feel weird about the idea, especially since Mikasa was ill. She is extremely protective, after all.

The current extra lengthy pause certainly wasn't helping matters either. Briefly glancing at my phone, I saw that she had not hung up on me. Yet.

When she finally spoke, I released the breath clogging my throat.

"How quickly can you get here?"

A glance at her door and I grinned, answering candidly, "One second."

"I'm being serious, Potter." She fought back despite exhaustion.

"Now now, don't slip into surnames, princess. Pet names certainly, dirty bedroom talk permissible, but never surnames. We're not at Hogwarts." I wondered if I should tease her this much at such a distressing time yet it warmed my heart when laughter rang from the other end; abet a tad sarcastic. "Though, I am serious. Exquisitely so, or so my middle name—"

Yona groaned followed with that lovely laugh, "Eeenough, James. Don't you have practice today? Or some interview?"

"Done with practice," I listed waving an index finger in the air and added, "And cancelled interview. I'm delightfully unengaged."

Yona seemed to be searching for a way to dissuade me, suggesting various professional and leisure activities several times before she finally relented, "Alright. Come join in the misery, you masochist."

Tsking quietly to myself, my reply was amused. "First I'm Nobody, then perverted space alien, and now a masochist. I'm starting to lose track of who I am anymore, princess. I fear I might down spiral, though I'm quite good at spirals in general."

"Down spiral...is that supposed to be a broomstick joke? So help me Helga Hufflepuff, you—you prat!" Yeah, that was definitely agitation seeping into her tone.

"That's not very kind to Helga Hufflepuff, princess, calling her a prat and all is probably disrespectful." It was inevitable that the retort wound her up, if only I'd learn to put a sock in it while I was ahead. But I loved seeing Yona fired up. "Dishonor! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your House—"

The reference was not lost and Yona's laughter created a widespread grin on my face. "I cannot believe that James Potter is making a _Mulan_ reference at a time like this. You're unbelievable."

"Yet you refuse to go on a date with me," I chuckled and shifted the back on my shoulder. "Perhaps if I appeared dressed up like Khan?"

A baffled choke echoed into my ear followed by a cough. "The horse? That's the horse from _Mulan_ , James. Why did I attempt to drink something while talking to you?" She sighed.

"I've always enjoyed apples," I recalled thoughtfully and laughed when she made a disgruntled sound from inside.

"Oh I'm sure," Yona grumbled distractedly. Another loud noise was heard in the background, which sounded like something either knocked over or someone fell.

After a moment of silence, I worriedly asked, "Are you still alive in there?" My eyes flickered to the door and waited.

"Yes," she finally breathed out, sounding more flustered. "I tripped over one of Mikasa's toys while trying to get on my work skirt."

"Now there is a woman worth fighting for," I grinned and tilted my head back to picture it. "Can I help take it off later?"

"James," Yona warned and imagined her cheeks tinted pink. "I will hang up this phone, you idiot."

"If that were to happen, shall I shout out a variation of _Baby Come Back_ right outside your door?"

"So many Muggle references today. But I'm sure the neighbors would love that," Yona said defeated, sarcasm slipping back into her tone. "My neighbor, Berta, would probably adore baking you some biscuits. Or having _you_ for dinner."

"Actually it's a ghost town out here," I noted and nodded my head after confirming the hall with my eyes. "Does Berta who likes to bake live to your left or right? I could use a biscuit."

"The left, and the farthest one down the hall." The tone changed to weary. "James... you sound awfully close."

"That's because I've been loitering outside your door," was my causal reply. "Shall you lay down your hair? I could climb in, though the positioning might be odd."

The door flew open not a second later, revealing a red-faced Yona with an untucked white blouse and hair in disarray. Beautifully rumpled. And her mouth was open.

I held out my arms, resisting the urge to rush at her for an embrace. "You're delivery, princess. One masochist."

"How long were you out here for?!"

I held up my hands after pocketing the phone—opting to smile down at the real person behind the flustered voice. "Mmm, I'd say since the estimated 'one second,' give or take a few minutes in the elevator."

"You should have told me then." Yona released another exasperated sigh, though this one was lighter, "Are you absolutely sure about staying? I don't want to burden up your day, and I don't want you to feel obligated in any way."

"Yes, I'm sure." I answered automatically, and firmly added "Now go to work before I start to make greedy excuses to keep you here."

"Fine," she groaned as I followed her into her apartment and watched flick her wand around to collect her belongings. Yona paused near the kitchen, close to where their shoes were placed by the doorway. "Mikasa's already had a Pepper Up potion but have her take some of this Muggle children's medicine at around noon with the rice porridge I left in the fridge. There are plenty of leftovers and snacks as well, so help yourself. If she gives you trouble about taking her medicine, tell her this in sign language."

Watching Yona twist an index finger against her cheek, I recognized the sign and laughed. "You bribe her with candy?"

"Potions are easier but the girl loathes swallowing cough syrup," Yona admitted with a shrug of defeat.

"Sounds like every child. I don't know why they don't try to mask the flavor more, though potions cannot really talk. I've drank some nasty ones over the years," I recalled with a cringe and gave Yona a once over.

"What?"

"You got ready in a flash, princess. I'll see you after work," adding on princely air I bowed formally and winked.

An indescribable expression crossed her features before settling into a small, almost tender smile. "Thank you, James," Yona whispered close to my ear before she pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. There was a shocked silence and much blinking from Yona, whose actions seemed to place herself in a daze. And then, with a blush, she was gone.

Over the months, the sign language that Yona taught me became easier with use, though I still had trouble most of the time and Mikasa relied a lot on writing out conversations with me. I was still a work in progress, I acknowledged with a sigh.

After quickly cancelling my interview, I paused outside of Mikasa's door and then peeked inside. As soon as the door creaked open, I saw Mikasa's wide, watery eyes gawk—not quite focusing on anything in a feverish daze. She sniffled and laid back down, moving under the blankets.

I thought she fell back asleep when her voice croaked, quiet and obviously having a sore throat, "Piiince."

Moving towards her, I tucked her more snugly under her blankets after noticing her shivering. However it must have been a bad cold because Mikasa cried silently, something I wouldn't have recognized if she hadn't sniffled loudly. Her head buried into the pillow, hiding her face.

Without thinking about it, I knelt down next to the bed and rubbed light circles into her back—a soothing motion that had worked with Lily when she was small. Not long after, she stopped weeping and fell asleep.

Hours later Mikasa appeared a little less flushed when I gave her the medicine and rice porridge for lunchtime. Double checking her temperature and taking her empty bowl, sure enough, her forehead felt cooler than this morning. Upholding the promise for taking her medicine, I dropped the wrapped candy into Mikasa's outstretched palm.

Smiling softly, she signed "thank you" along with another sign I wasn't familiar with. Upon my look of confusion, Mikasa repeated the sign: opened right hand with thumb touched to the forehead. She sighed sleepily when I didn't get it, yet smiled before laying back down.

Huh. I'd have to ask Yona about it later.

...

"James? James," someone lightly shook my shoulder while calling out my name.

In my sleepy haze, my voice mumbled "five more minutes" and gently deflected the hand that pressured me to rise. After receiving a text from my father, I'd allowed my head to fall against Yona's living room table in frustration. He wanted to have "a proper discussion" about the family and involvement in the Potter legacy. What a pain... in the arse.

And apparently I'd drifted asleep despite the news that caused all the internal distress. In comparison to the monthly family gatherings at Nana Molly's house and even my own apartment, Yona's place offered—without fail—a sense of calmness. One that lulled me into a comfortable sleep.

Blinking slowly, I greeted her, "Hiya princess." After wiping away some drool and sitting up, I inquired in an amused tone, "How was work? Draw me in any _interesting_ positions today? If not, there is still time."

Her face turned red. "You perverted space alien," was her reply with a roll of her eyes. "Work was fine, overall, just stressful with all the approaching deadlines. Did Mikasa give you any trouble taking her medicine? How is she?"

"Her fever has been down and she took her medicine, so there's no problem there." I hummed thoughtfully before a thought crossed my mind. "Sorry for falling asleep...It must have worried you."

"Mikasa being sick, in general, bothers me a lot but she wasn't left in terrible hands." She looked up and flashed me a small smile—one that twiddled on my heartstrings. "Thank you."

I returned that smile with one of my own, locking eyes with her and denied it being a big deal.

"You helped a lot," Yona insisted automatically, leaning in closer to reassure me, "I really appreciate you staying today, and that you've been so kind and considerate." As I stared up at her, Yona fidgeted and continued sheepishly, "Truly. Thank you, James."

"You're welcome. Anytime," I shrugged my shoulders and looked downwards.

A moment of silence passed between us—long and awkward as I considered what all this meant to me. What Yona has come to mean to me, as well as her daughter. If I tried to get closer to both of them, would Yona pull away again? Or would the bonds between us become deeper, more family-like? Family values had always been placed on a pedestal for the Potter-Weasley clan, yet I wasn't even sure what our true values were. Besides expectations, of course. Family could be... a huge pain in the arse.

And each time I pressed the topic of what Yona thought about me, I received a vague answer or no answer. We kissed and intimately touched one another, but the we weren't a couple. We have never even been on a date, despite all the time I'd been spending at her place. Once Freddie casually made a comment on my way out and I'd called Yona mine, like second nature—without thought.

Yet, did I truly know her enough to call her mine? About her past, her family, dreams, and everything that makes Yona who she is. No...

The gloominess of my inner thoughts must have bled through because Yona asked worriedly, "What's wrong? Is there anything that I can do for you? Thirsty?"

"Hmm," I hummed distractedly and then reached towards her. "Yeah...Hug me?"

Yona stared at me, a bit speechless. "Alright..." she trailed in uncertainty, sat next to me on the couch, and grabbed onto my shoulders. She began to move closer for an embrace but suddenly stopped, stiffening her body considerably. "Err, I probably smell actually. I should shower—"

I grabbed Yona before she could fully extract herself and lifted her to sit on my lap, though she squeaked in protest. I squeezed my arms around her, nuzzling my face into her blouse to inhale her scent. My hands slipped down the smoothness of her curves, bunching the fabric as I rested my hands on her hips as I drew her body to me.

No cloying perfume, no strange makeup or fake smelling products. It was simply her: soap and warmth.

As my hands held her, they trembled with probably sweaty palms. Despite all that awkwardness, those slate-colored eyes became glued to mine—as though searching. Running one hand through her hair, I gripped her side a little tighter as I stuttered out my thoughts, "I-I really... want to kiss you right now." Really smooth of me. Ugh.

"Go ahead," Yona consented in a single breath and pressed her warm lips against mine. Her hands, pressed firmly at my shoulders, burned. With my lips and my everything, I reached up for her—a hungry mouth melding with her tentative one.

The tip of my tongue brushed against her bottom lip, teased once and then coaxed, and her mouth parted willingly. As their tongues danced, there was a welcomed thrusting of her hips into my own that was urgent and searing—as though abruptly kindling a wildfire with the friction of two bodies.

Momentarily losing her grip, Yona clung to me with a longing that left me equal parts thrilled and terrified. 'Mine...all mine,' my brain labeled selfishly as I squeezed her tight against me. Yona's skirt rode up as my fingertips ventured from her ankle to her upper thighs, and then I settled on those hips again. A tiny sound echoed between us as my hips bucked up into hers.

She was as wet against my hardness, and the thought never had me so aroused. My mouth lunged for her throat—as though it was lathered in honey, and it was my personal clean-up mission alternating between licks, kisses, and nips. Yona released a throaty moan, arching her back and presenting easier access to her neck.

The constant traveling of my hands came to a stop when my fingers grazed her panties and my gaze washed over her, unsure where she wanted this to go.

"We should stop," Yona panted out, pulling away from me. She shifted and gave an awkward smile as I took a step back from her, looking up curiously as she added, "don't want to risk it with Mikasa and I should go check on her, anyways..." She nodded her head towards the hallway before disappearing into Mikasa's room.

And just like that, Yona didn't feel like mine anymore... Why did I feel so happy one minute and then depressed the next?

"You okay?" The question snapped me out of my sullen introspection. Yona made her way to the kitchen, dragging out leftovers, as she peeked out at me. Wrapped up in my head, I hadn't noticed her walk by after checking on Mikasa.

"Yeah," I answered nonchalantly but the hard expression on Yona's face said she wasn't easily deceived. "How's Mikasa?"

"Her fever is down," Yona informed with relief. "I'm just going to heat up some soup for her, give her another potion, and tuck her in again. Would you mind getting our leftovers ready while I do that? I'm starving."

"Sure," I nodded and gave her a thumbs up as I began to dish out the leftover curried rice. As my hands gathered all the utensils and I set the table, it floored me how accustomed this routine had become. Despite our non-labeled relationship, my hands automatically grabbed Yona a glass of milk from the fridge because curry sometimes was a little too spicy to her. Yet, when cooking, she batted my hand away when I attempted to put less spices in because she loved bolder flavors.

We weren't together but... my mind always lingered and curled back to Yona. She was different—there wasn't a threatening atmosphere clogging every fiber of my being when she was around. In all my experience being surrounded and mobbed by girls, I felt safe with this woman.

Consumed with this odd tightening in my chest, Yona returned and reached out to lightly brush her fingers against my upper arm, startling me once again with that soft voice, "James? What is it?" The palm of her right hand checked my forehead, "Are you feeling sick?"

'She's being so nice to me,' and the thought automatically filled me with a strange warmth. Shaking my head and keeping eyes locked on her, I smiled encouragingly. "No, I'm fine. Just thinking a lot. Shall we eat?"

After fixing me with a long stare, Yona glanced at the table and sat down. "If you say so. Thank you for setting out everything—" Her eyes flickered to the glass of milk and her lips parted, as though surprised by the gesture but she didn't comment further.

It was relatively quiet as they ate, exchanging a few comments about Mikasa, James' morning practice, and Yona's workday. Although it wasn't awkward, it was noticeable that Yona had something on her mind.

Putting down a spoonful of rice, she asked randomly, "How many girlfriends have you had?"

Hmmm, girlfriends? Long-term relationships had ways been a struggle because after a few months girls would show their true colors, or they were incessantly shallow and greedy. The fake sweet personas and masks were always too much of a pain to deal with as they proclaimed adoration. Most only wanted to "bag the Potter Prince" at whatever cost.

I swallowed down a mouthful and tilted back a drink of water before replying. "I've had a few casual things. Girlfriends have been a huge pain in the past, so I haven't had one in years." That was definitely the truth, especially after the handcuff incident among other things.

Even after we cleaned up and double checked on Mikasa, Yona appeared to be stewing something over in her head, frowning almost gloomily.

As the sulk on her facial features increased, So did my desire to ask, "What's wrong?" We had moved into her bedroom after she showered, planning to watch a movie.

"Nothing," she hummed softly but that expression remained, it was unsettling and made me want to make her smile again.

I pressed my lips against hers and offered a small smile. "Yona," my arms wrapped around her as I spoke her name. As we laid against each other in bed, I softly added, "Hold me...tight, princess."

There was hesitation locking her arms as she sensed my own deep desperation, and then she relaxed. "Like this?" Her arms squeezed around my shoulders before sliding to caress my neck and head against her beating heart.

"Mhmm," I confirmed and inhaled a lungful of the relaxing scent overwhelming me. It was clean—soap and slightly earthy, such a natural nice smell. My mouth breathed against her clothed breast and I smiled as her fingers stroked the locks of my hair.

"Hey..." Yona trailed off glancing out the window and then briefly at the television. "It's getting pretty late. Did you—that is if you want—to..." she huffed in frustration and grumbled loudly, "stay the night!"

Jerking back at the forceful command, laughter escaped from its rumbling in my chest. This woman was just too cute sometimes. "Of course, my fair princess," was my response after pressing my lips to her hand.

Nonchalantly, I stripped off my shirt and unbuckled my pants to prepare for bed. Wide-eyed shock washed over Yona's features and she stuttered, "Wh-what the hell are you doing, you perverted alien?!"

Relaxing against her pillows, I smirked and gave another shrug, "Getting ready for bed, of course. This is all I have to wear right now."

"Fine," Yona quickly replied, nervousness still building in her posture as she shuffled her feet. I patted the bed and attempted to coax her next to me with a come hither gesture.

She finally gave in after flicking out the lights, inching closer as she turned on the movie.

"Oh Yona," her name slipped from my lips and searched for her in the dark. "I know this sign means _thank_ _you_ , but what does this mean?" Mimicking the sign that Mikasa had told me, I waited for Yona's response.

Frowning deeply with a scrunch to her features, And when she answered concern coated her voice, "it's means _daddy_. Why do you ask?"

Shite. So, Mikasa had called me... daddy? The poor thing was definitely ill and probably confused. How do I explain this to Yona?

 **A/N:**

 **I don't own the song Baby Come Back, and I don't own Mulan!**

 **Honestly I'm still not fully satisfied with this chapter but I'll give for now.**

Tell me your own thoughts on James, the progression of Yona and his relationship, and Mikasa, of course! Let me know what characters you want to see more of, or know more about. Review review, please! Ah and let me know your interest in princess/fairytale references because I mention something on every chapter and am burning for more!

Thanks for reading ;)


	12. The Girl that Time Forgot

**I don't own Harry Potter and I don't own Sleeping Beauty!**

Enjoy reading :)

 **Chapter 12: The girl that time forgot**

 **Yona's POV:**

Ultimately sleep is inevitable, one always surrenders to it whether willingly or not. Personally, sleep is lovely and I don't get nearly enough of it. One would think that in the realms of magic, the drowsiness and exhaustion of the world would have been rectified, or at least a little rejuvenated. Unfortunately, it wasn't the case—just like magic wasn't advanced enough yet to make my daughter hear everyday noise. Or my voice.

Magic. While at Hogwarts, the word tangled and twisted in my stomach—a little thrill. Having that kind of power, that kind of influence... it was shape itself. You could do anything with it. Endless possibilities, until there are not...

After finding out Mikasa's diagnosis of quickly diminishing hearing that'd emulate deafness at age three, I went a little off the deep end trying to find healers and Muggle doctors that would benefit our situation. It was the first time magic failed me; the ultimate betrayal. So much time passed whilst submerged in duress, yet no _Reparo_ could mend my little girl.

Quickly I remembered—as the bills piled up—there was a big world out there, and that world doesn't stop just because one person is asleep.

Maybe that's why waking up first was always a troublesome event for me. The routine exhaustion of the day waited expectantly, but the comforting warmth that spooned me was a born again virgin experience. And why did my chest feel so warm?

Fluttering my eyes open with lethargic concentration, I attempted to snuggle deeper into my pillows only to find myself stuck in this current position; her legs wedged and tangled with warmth that rendered shifting impossible.

A slight tilt of my head downwards discovered two large hands locked on my naked breasts. What the hell? How did I become half-naked?

Shutting my eyes again, I thought, "That man better not start dreaming about Quaffles right now. I'll wake him up so fast, he'll think a bludger smashed into him."

Releasing a sigh, I tilted my head backward to peek at James and swallowed. That handsome face was completely relaxed as his bare chest rose and fell without any snoring or sleep oddities.

As strands of ebony drifted around his eyes, the temptation to reach out and brush the hair away was great but I decided against it. His expression was so peaceful, almost vulnerable.

I lowered my head and arched my back to snuggle up against him, closing my eyes again until I felt a twitch against my backside. It was hard, like some sort of rod that jabbed against my arse.

Holy Helga, how big was he?

The more I squirmed, the tighter the spider monkey's spooning embrace became and I found myself expecting him to coil his legs around me as a tactic to keep me still. That's correct—James Potter is a snuggler.

Snuggling is fine, and I'm a game for it but I wanted his erection to quit poking my arse.

James inhaled deeply, sniffing the scent of the back of my neck and hugging me closer. "Yona…" he mumbles in his sleep. "My princess…"

Was he dreaming about me? Though the idea of it made a frantic flopping in my stomach, like a freshly caught fish brought on shore.

"James?" My whisper was barely audible yet his face twitched when his name slipped from my lips. Than his grip on my breasts firmed up, thumbs tracing circles until I'm panting and hard as the pole threatening my arse. Oh fuckin hell...

A throaty, frankly embarrassing moan echoes off the bedroom walls and my face flushed when I realized the owner was me.

Wiggling my body, I attempted to angle my body away from him only to be thwarted as soon as a sliver of space was granted.

James groaned and reached blindly around me, shifting his embrace to lock securely around my shoulders and boxed me in from behind. Prince my foot, this perverted alien is relentless in his sleep.

"James Potter." The sound of his name on my lips caused a smile to sharpen his cheeks as I admired the ridiculous prat. My eyes savored unruly dark hair, smooth sun-kissed skin, and swept over the bare chest I'm crushed against.

His fingers reached for me again, palming over my right breast and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. As another moan threatened to to escape at the hands of merely a hint of promised pleasure, I did what any sensible woman would do.

I flicked his forehead.

Groaning loudly, James wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked my head under his chin to keep me in place. For a final touch, he placed a chaste kiss to the bare skin of my left shoulder. "Was such roughness entirely necessary?"

Scowling at the ceiling, I said, "I should have known you weren't asleep. Jeez."

Uncurling his hold from me, James threw an arm over his face—slightly masking himself and a massive grin—and peeked at me through one opened eye. Immediately missing his warmth, I turned away and folded my arms across my bare chest.

Oh yeah...how the hell had _that_ happened? Glancing from side to side, my gaze surveyed where my shirt had ventured.

Had it grown legs, deciding to dance around in the forest like some fairyland creature?

Picking up on my distress, James sat up and inched closer to embrace me. His face loomed above me, lips swelling towards mine as I shuttered mine to expectantly meet them. The kiss is sweet than anticipated—fully expected crusted drool and stale breath, to be honest—only to be taken aback by its warmth and familiarity.

Sliding my palms up over his taunt, smooth chest, it served as an anchor before curling my arms around his neck.

"Yona," he whispered, voice husky and deep, as those hands explore the length of my back—riding over every hollow and curve. I'm too lost in his soft lips, the heady nearness and solid feel of him against me, that I hardly notice the instinctive way my legs hook around his hips and thrust him closer to me.

Breaking apart for a moment, we breathe much needed air.

"So you do understand...at least a little," James whispered as he pressed his forehead to mine. One of his hands trace a fiery path of fingertips against my left shoulder—shivering down my spine like cool, refreshing water. "It's okay, princess. I'll willingly surrender myself to you."

"What are you on about now?"

"Didn't you purposefully take off your shirt? So sneaky," was his low, seductive reply yet those hazel eyes sucked me in. His grin widened as he added, "you know you make a beautiful cyclops."

"Don't say such weird stuff!" I pushed away from him, claiming some breathing room as my eyes continued to search for my shirt.

"So cruel," he laughed not appearing the least bit slighted as he clutched his heart. "It hurts," he continued with a whine and hugged me to him again. Like last night, James was acting spoiled.

Also reminiscent of last night, he tried to ravish me with his mouth.

I involuntarily pressed back, parting my lips to allow his tongue to glide with mine. Almost immediately his hands grappled my waist and I tugged his hair for stability, moaning into his mouth as he massaged and played with my tongue.

As though anchored in a dream, My body danced and sang along with his.

My mind warned me to struggle, to push him off; but I just don't want to leave this dream. Since meeting James, there had been so many fantasies that slinked into my sleep, as well. In each dream my body was disconnected yet so familiar with James' touch, eagerly so. One glimpse of James and it yearned, ached and, yes, craved.

It said: I know you, that gleam of your eyes and the familiar sensation of your heart pounding along with mine. We'd met before and we'd meet again—as though connected or guided by another's force.

Regardless of what my mind cautioned, the desire and eagerness for his hands to touch something other than my hips prevailed.

Apparently James found that to be the appropriate time to tickle me—I mean torture me.

"Stop it," I wiggled uselessly as laughter spilled from wide open mouth. Despite the struggle of James merciless fingers tickling user my arms, I felt radiating heat from the chest that hovered above me.

Having the audacity to laugh at the torture, James didn't listen. Instead he increased his pace, watching in satisfaction as I writhed under his touch.

"Please," my voice begged, cursing the laughter that bubbled out to betray me. "I'll pee myself!"

The warning should have embarrassed both of us at least a little, but it didn't.

Chuckling deviously after tickling my sides, James beamed down at me but then his grin faltered once he caught sight of my teeth gnawing on my lower lip. Hazel eyes darkened and he leaned forward; it made my heart skip frantically—thundering like a video game character about to lose its last life. It was seconds before he captured my lips again but it felt like a lifetime.

What was time anymore anyways?

It was like a magnetic attraction that brought our lips together in a thirst quenching manner that made me desire more. Our lips slipped over each other's again and again—dehydrated or addicted on cups of passion. Downing each as rapidly as possibly to achieve that magical buzz.

Lost in feeling one another, James had freed my hands to seize my chin—tilting backwards to deepen the kiss. My hands weren't much better in their war path, grasping the back of James' hair tightly while returning the kiss. We were desperate and breathless, gasping for air in the mere seconds when we chose to break.

James' fingers glided downwards lightly, grasping underneath my bare thighs to lift me as his lips descended downwards, experimentally nipping and sucking at my neck. All the while I straddled his lap, squirming on top of the tightened hardness.

I pulled away from him to drink his gaze—to tell him, what exactly? That was incomprehensible—only to have one stop. Because of the intense expression in James' eyes floored me, suspended my heart in a terrifyingly thrilling tightrope act. It wasn't lust that filled and consumed those burning hazel orbs—well, there was traces of _that_ —but it there was another emotion indescribable, almost tender flicker that threatened to swallow me.

"J—"

And then time snapped forward as quick knocks at the door, off-beat in rhythm and followed behind a tone-deaf call of, "Maaaa! Morn'."

Apparently, Mikasa was feeling better.

 **Charles' POV:**

Most are familiar with the tale of Maleficent: the evil fairy turned dragon gunning for sweet princess Aurora. The prince slays the dragon and wins the heart of the princess with a brush of his lips. Salvation of the kingdom embraced the pair like a comforting blanket and it was inevitable they'd fall even deeper in love. A match destined for years come to light—all for the good of the kingdom.

However, for all the "good" and "evil" lumped into two overgeneralized categories, the difference often depends on perspectives—protagonist or antagonist; villain or hero/heroine. But what if Maleficent had a son, who in turn fancied sweet princess Aurora's son? Or maybe that son had been shagging Prince Philip while the bint was in a coma, or while shacked up and forgotten in the forest? What if Maleficent only wanted to protect her family; her legacy? That the good intent was there—coiled and protective, loyal beyond anything—but shite got out of hand.

Like a festering, incurable kind of emotion that seizes up, expands and transforms—as fierce and possessive as a dragon. A passion that spread like wildfire, burning down everything in its path. All the while, the "evil" fairy prince feared abandonment, rejection smothering the passion until there is only ash.

Fuckin' fairy tales.

"I feel all sticky now," Freddie commented after we had completed another round—this one we'd made it to the bed. After sex my mind always lingered aimlessly, trudging along like a slug in the dirt. Two warm arms squeezed around my waist, while a mop of soft, auburn hair buried into the crease of my chest. "I know. Let's take a bath together. Your bath is huge and you use bubbles."

"Don't get your hopes up," was my bored reply and sensed the flinch on Freddie's face before I saw it. Those warm hands began to loosen with concealed hurt.

As expected, Freddie's reply was dejected, "Sorry..."

I laid back with an arm behind my head and tugged art his side, shifting nearer to Freddie as he tried to wiggle away. "Don't apologize so much. I was kidding. I'll draw a bath in a bit if that's what you want."

"Char!" He hugged me affectionately, all traces of him being dejected vanished into thin air. The man switched moods at the flip of a switch.

Grunting slightly, I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling yet couldn't resist the small curl of a smile at the corners of my lips.

My head told me to put a stop to all of this, but my damn heart remained relentless. Each and every time, I lost myself to the man clinging to me. Our relationship defied so many unspoken rules and regulations: family legacy bound and worldly. In truth, it went beyond the discrimination of same sex coupling and general romance yet I couldn't tear myself away from it's complexity.

'We cannot,' would be insisted time after time when I'd have Freddie pressed against a wall, or bent over my dining room table—where my grandfather had drank early morning tea countless times. A Yaxley is a Yaxley; blood is blood, running thick and porous with bigotry. Yet, the ratcheted beats in my chest took a single glance at Freddie Weasley on my doorstep and concluded, 'we must.'

I allowed myself to get carried away, as I suckled his neck and nipped his pulse point fully anticipating the throaty, low moan well before it passed those plush lips.

A jumbled mess—that's the definition of these thoughts of mine. At first, I merely wanted to fuck this attractive man against my better judgment—because, it was merely a fling—only to have it spiral out of control. Late night calls, more secret visits, and then Freddie Weasley was waking up in my bed. And then I was catering him fucking breakfast, like some domesticated housewife.

Against my better judgement, I didn't physically push Freddie away and—like a annoyingly tempting boomerang—he returned.

Yet that didn't mean I was knowledgeable about Freddie, in fact it was the opposite. Certainly everyone freely recalled facts about the Weasley's but, on a personal level, caution had me holding back getting to know him on a deeper level.

In the end, I don't know anything really about Freddie besides trivial pieces of information spinning around inside my head. It irritates the hell out of me.

"Breakfast is ready," I beckoned in Freddie's direction, hearing the door open after he finished his bath. "Damned egg yokes broke again though, so don't complain." Don't understand how Yona makes those omelette rice dishes so perfectly—the weirdo. Time to ask for her advice again.

Freddie flopped down in the chair next to me, piling eggs and sausage onto his plate without comment. Taking the seat next to him, I did the same once Freddie began eating and gulping down the coffee next to his plate.

Causally cutting into the sausage now on my plate, I randomly muttered, "Soo...we should start dating. I fancy you and all that—" Sometimes the words that come out of my mouth unfiltered are unbelievable.

Coffee sputtered everywhere courtesy of Freddie's wide open trap. "Bloody hell, Char," Freddie coughed in utter exasperation. "Ahhh, it came out my nose. It burns!"

Blinking up at him, my eyebrow raised to inquire. "What?"

Freddie threw him an annoyed look and thrust the fork he was gripping in my direction. "You're fuckin mad, you know that?" With his other hand he held a tissue to his nose with a grimace. "Ever heard of a thing called timing?"

Freddie was awarded an oh-so-enthusiastic eye roll, which he held no appreciation for apparently. "Would you have preferred me asking while my fingers were curled in your arse?" I replied with a wave of my fork.

"No! Quit joking around," he hissed at me with a vivid blush that clashed with his hair.

"Who said I was joking?" Balancing my chin on my hand, I smirked at the flustered man beside me as the fork twirled effortlessly. "Just consider it."

"Char..." there was a heaviness in his tone that was dislikable, a warning sign for a serious and misery-inducing topic: family.

The blood that ran through the Weasley clan remained ignorant to the fact that Freddie is gay, though the man himself even fruitlessly insisted that that was untrue. Who would have guessed that the Yaxley's would be more accepting of sexuality differences than the Weasley family? However, it would not be a surprise if Freddie had left the questioning topic of sexuality to himself.

It was clearly not breakfast at Nana's burrow conversation.

Freddie's eyes trained on the plate in front of him, yet the glazed over expression displayed him not really seeing it. He released a heavy sigh and I felt my stomach drop. "My mother is setting up a blind date, or matchmaking for me."

I raised my eyebrows, attempting to hide the sense of dread consuming me. "So? Refuse. Tell her you're interested in someone else."

The offered words sounded more like a challenge, as the fork clenched in my hand took a rest on the tabletop. Rising from the chair, I stepped nearer to him and smiled affectionately down at him before crouching in front of Freddie, yanking his chair to face me, and caressing his soft, auburn hair.

"Char," Freddie pouted, gripping onto my shirt as my lips leaned in to capture his. Our kiss deepened, a mess of tongues and grinding hips pulsing for that sweet spot. After hoisting him up onto the table, Freddie attempted to peel away from me.

"Stop it," Freddie murmured against my lips with a light whine, moving away to stare into my eyes. "I need to go. This needs to stop—"

"Freddie," I whispered, lowering my lips to press a kiss to any patch of skin he could find with each breath. "We have all the time in the world."

This time Freddie didn't restrain himself and instead let himself melt into the kiss, arms looping around my middle as I pulled his body flush against my chest. As Freddie slowly opened his mouth, I ran my tongue softly against his lip.

Our tongues caressed and danced, fanning the fire between us to permit passionate chaos. Opening up his pants, I'd show him how sinful this "evil" fairy prince could be; how wicked I could make Freddie feel.

But then Freddie stiffened as his two hands firmly pushed away from me.

I felt the distance placed between us like a bucket off cold water, and the stretch of my arms only made contact with rejection. Standing stunned, glancing around the empty kitchen after the man that moments before had returned my passionate gaze fled the apartment.

The familiar rejection and pain filled my chest as my heart constricted tightly, leaving behind the struggle to take a single breath.

Freddie had left again. Now the "evil" prince was at risk for being forgotten, sitting cold and alone with nothing but Prince Philip's sword after the great battle.

Blinking quickly to swallow back the emotion swelling up every fiber of my being, my fingers pressed the call button on the trembling cell phone in my left hand.

"Ohayou!" The cheerfully familiar good morning in Japanese tongue did me in. "Char?" Yona questioned after getting no response.

"Ohayou," was the stiffness of my reply and the tone cracked at the end.

She gasped, "Are you crying?!"

"Tch, of course not." I denied but another crack in my voice told her otherwise.

There was a pregnant pause, which I used to bite at my cuticles, and then Yona was whispering to someone on the other end. "What are you saying? I don't know. I already kept you yesterday, taking up so much of your time..."

I strained to listen better, curious if she was with James Potter. Had he stayed the night?

"Are you sure? What can I do to repay... A date?!" She hissed the word like a flesh eating virus.

A/N:

Phew another chapter! I itched to do a Freddie POV but it just didn't come to me with a flow. Instead, I hope Charles' (aka: Char) was sufficient because I loved tying his story up in fairytale references *lol*

A few hints for next chapter:

Will James ever bring up the "daddy" thing to Yona, or will it reveal itself in another way?

Matchmaking/arranged marriage will likely be seen interfering elsewhere.

Tora will rear his lovely head.

A few thank you's:

Thank you to all the people following and favoriting the story!

Thank you for the lovely reviews **pullynnhah** and **kakananime123!**

 **Please come at me more with your reviews and suggestions and if my writer brain works, maybe it can shape into something...magical ;)**


	13. A Whole New World

**I don't own Harry Potter! I also don't own Aladdin or Princess and the Frog!**

 **Chapter 13: A Whole New World**

 **James POV:**

I allowed it permitted she wears the warm snuggie.

Apparently feeling well enough to not lay in bed, Mikasa insisted on playing dress up after I'd given her medicine and breakfast. Never in my life did I imagine standing in the living room of the woman I fancy dressed as a old-times English maid—yet here I was. In a frilly, long apron and everything, which included necessary makeup: electric blue eyeshadow, pale pink blush, lipstick, and a lavender wig—all of which were described as _tasteful._

 _Good Godric._

"Daaa!" Mikasa flailed as she tried to get her head through the neck hole of a princess dress, helpless until she fell back on her butt and cried out again while signing "help."

Grasping her shoulders, I recognized the problem immediately and muttered, "Silly girl. You have to unbutton the top first" and helped Mikasa pop her head through.

"Prric Daaa," Mikasa screeched tone-deaf with a grin as she barreled into me with a hug. The returned grin slid off my face when she began coughing heavily again, pouting and wincing at her scratchy throat.

"Tea?" the question wrote down on the dry erase board next to us, and Mikasa nodded eagerly before signing back, "yes, please."

Briefly cringing at the hallway mirror while walking to the kitchen, I concluded it was best to shrug and finish stirring the tea. Best not to dwell on how ridiculous I look right now—practically a cross dresser, despite it being worth seeing that beaming smile.

However, said beaming smile was missing from her bedroom when I returned.

"Mikasa..." she wasn't in the closet, nor hiding under the bed, or anywhere. It was as though she vanished.

"Mikasa!" I shouted, louder even though the sentiment fell on deaf ears. There was a door leading to a private bathroom, which conjoined her room to Yona's bedroom, once opened my eyes scanned everything familiar but totally disregarding it at the same time.

"Mikasa! Where are you?" Panic clenched firmly at my windpipe, the sensation unbearable.

At the door of the Yona's room I froze, foot free falling on the step-less floor, as wide-eyes hit the billowing curtains of the opened window and made my throat go dry.

"Oh Merlin." Bone white fingers clenched the curtains in seconds, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't see her on the ground below. Thousands of dangerous situations flew around inside my mind, and I finally gathered the reason Yona was so skilled at lunging...well anywhere. It was terrifying.

And then, with another exhale of relief, I heard a giggle. That sound was quickly chased by a cough that came from Yona's hamper.

"Trouble," I signed effortlessly—imprinted on my mind from the countless times I'd witnessed Yona scolding the adorable pouting face in front of me.

Face sullen, Mikasa stared at the floor before Bambie-like eyes glistened and she signed, "Sorry" and added, "Sorry, daddy."

I choked and almost fell to the floor, filled to the brim with uncertainty about how to react.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock_.

Momentarily distracted and speechless, I lunged too late for Mikasa, who bolted to answer the door. "Maaa!" Godric, I hoped it was Yona.

Only when the door opened to reveal a strict-looking woman with the same colored hair as Mikasa's pulled into a tight bun, I remembered how I looked. And from the pure disdain in her grey eyes, this woman didn't approve one bit.

Mikasa's also seemed more anxious than ever, but she smiled anyway and signed away at the woman. She used sign language to return what appeared to be a stiff, proper greeting before Mikasa was shooed away.

"A nanny, I presume." She took off a pair of long, elegant gloves and added, "I see my daughter requires reeducation on proper standards and etiquette. No matter."

Opening my mouth to offer an explanation or simple greeting, I was promptly refused with a wave of the woman's hand. "Yona is expected to come home next weekend, particularly on Saturday."

Speechless, my mind processed this woman as Yona's mother. What a shite first impression.

Her finger tapped the large box now laying on the counter. "This kimono is to be worn to the matchmaking ceremony. That is not up for discussion, though the letter provided will explain that in case Yona has forgotten her upbringing. Also, she should wear her hair in the _suitable_ coloring that she was born with, rather than that spell dyed nonsense.

"A wealthy family will offer marriage," her mother continued. "This is her duty and a massive benefit for our family's future."

With that as her final words and not bothering to ask for my name, Yona's mother left as frigidly as she'd come.

"What a nauseatingly proper woman," I commented with a glance to the large, flat box. Matchmaking ceremony.

As much as I fancied Yona, it pained me to keep wishing for us to be together. This obstacle would certainly interfere as well; it made me realize that just because you wish for something doesn't mean it's guaranteed to come true.

What if she loved the guy she met? If it were a case of love at first sight, and no amount of kissing from the dubbed Potter Prince could break that spell. Perhaps my existence valued an accursed frog; unsuitable to place my lips against her own.

"Shite..."

A creak snapped me out of my thoughts and revealed an anxious Mikasa with wide Bambie eyes glistening.

She twisted her little dress in her hands, while the snuggie slid from her shoulders.

My left hand ruffled her ebony ringlets affectionately in hopes to see her smile return. Even after carrying her to her room, Mikasa's expression remained so incredibly sad.

"Oops! I almost forgot to give you this," I said, slapping a hand to my forehead. Then, after rummaging through my bag, I presented her with a little stuffed animal white dragon, playfully making it flap around her head before dropping it into her lap.

Mikasa was quiet, still staring at the soft, smiling little dragon plushie. She opened and closed her mouth as though she was preventing a stammer, and then she coughed again.

Reading the apparent signs of bewilderment mixed with acheyness of her cold, I picked up the marker and wrote, "Do you like it?" I felt so nervous. Did I mess up?

Wide dark eyes stared into my soul, consuming me with a affectionate brightness that eased my nerves. Despite her obvious pouting and grogginess, Mikasa tackled me in another hug, causing me to laugh and adjust the snuggie around her like a burrito.

"Thank you," Mikasa signed and muttered "Daa" but the voice muffled in my shirt—err apron.

It only took one look at her to truly believe—and wish—to remain by their side.

 **Freddie's POV:**

It was during the second semester senior year of uni when everything changed; when I officially changed with no option of u-turning. The season was brisk yet slowly warming with spring—seeds meandering gently beneath the soil. A season that had filled my heart with hope.

At the beginning, that had been the firm belief that drove me into pursuing Herbology. Until he walked into the classroom, and something hit me in that moment. A faint sweet but earthy scent lingered—much like the garden surrounding us—and everything else was white noise.

The constricted feeling in my chest continued even after the professor announced him as his assistant, though in my numbed over state I'd failed to catch the assistant's name.

Who knew a man could be so beautiful?

The very thought had flustered me; no matter how beautiful someone was getting excited over a guy...was confusing. Aunt Hermione would be understanding and supportive, and hell, probably dad but family to the Weasley's was something you didn't mess around with. Family meant eventual marriage and kids; generations of tradition and loyalty.

Perhaps that's why Uncle Charlie never married either...and is still closeted. He hadn't wanted to disappoint or disrupt the steady flow of things, so the choice to haul himself away to another country to surround himself with other species was simple.

Perhaps that was a favorable set of footsteps to follow—that's what I'd thought—but then I decided to take my own magic carpet ride.

I got shite drunk. Alone. And then shifted a worst case scenario into disastrous as I sat my pissed self outside the campus greenhouse on a bench in the pouring rain. I waited without truly knowing the reason; what was I waiting for? The efforts to question my opened palms again and again fell of deaf ears.

Then again, hands don't even have ears.

"Hey you." A stylish dress shoe tapped at my soaked pant leg, actually the entirely of me was drenched so it didn't make much of a difference. Despite that fact, the beautiful assistant from my Herbology class had pinned me down with a blue eyed gaze, while his arm held an umbrella over me. "Is there a reason your sitting out here like a hobo? You're going to get sick."

The witty, flirtatious words were prepared at the back of my throat—fuck, I was going to shag this beautiful assistant until he couldn't see straight. Until I couldn't see straight, or know my own name. For one night I had no desire to be Fred Weasley.

Wait, actually my visions already blurred and... I hadn't been able to recall this guy's name?

"You alright there? Freddie, isn't it?"

I had blinked at him, taking in his wary expression and the droplets of rain soaking his left shoulder, that he'd left vulnerable covering me with the umbrella. My mouth opened in reply...

And then I had tossed my cookies all over his expensive looking shoes and blacked out. Great.

After I woke up the next morning, a sense of dread filled me as I inventoried my hangover, the foreign bedroom, and my half-nakedness.

I almost screamed when the assistant walked in with a hangover potion and a glass of orange juice. "Oh good you're awake," he said, casually handing me the tray in his hands. "You completely ruined my favorite shoes, you know."

"Did–d we...?" A questioning glance down at my lack of clothes hopefully sufficed.

He raised his eyebrows. "Fuck?" He chucked. "You kept mumbling that you don't even know my name and you're wondering if we had sex. What kind of standards do you _have_?"

"Did we?!" I insisted with a hot blush.

"No Freddie." He ran his fingers through my messy locks, as I watched as the cerulean eyes dart up to meet mine. A wave of concern swirled in the depths and he frowned. "You alright? You look troubled and... feverish."

"This is so troublesome." Mostly is said this to myself due to the blush that mortified my face.

"It's only troublesome if we get caught," the man playfully mused.

I remembered noticing that he was a good half-a-head taller than me, so my nose could have been smothered by the fabric on his shoulder. Surely, I insistently told myself, that was the only reason why it was so damn hard to breathe with him so near. As he checked for a fever, my hands had been uselessly squashed between our bodies and made it difficult to push him away.

To my utmost horror, my nether regions stirred growing more and more aroused. And I was pretty damn certain that the man in front of me could feel it too. There had been a breathy chuckle somewhere a little above my ear, as if to confirm my suspicions.

"I'm Freddie," I had introduced lamely, as an attempt to get him to share his name and deflect his attention away from my embarrassing erection.

"I know, Freddie Weasley. What I'm wondering is what's with that thirsty look about you? Are you in heat or something?"

"Who are you calling thirsty, you prat?!"

And Charles Yaxley had merely laughed, raised himself up on his arms, and gazed down at me with an unfathomable expression. "Can I mess up your clothes?"

Those eyes had held a promise for a whole new world.

 **A/N:**

Goodness I've been in an unsatisfied slump this chapter. I had intended to include Tora somewhere but any attempts just felt rushed and stupid. Anywho!

Awww, my Jem Jem got called the D word again—with an emphasis on Adorkable. And then there's all the hubbub on Matchmaking (sooo feeling Milan vibes in the future) because my Yona is not exactly a princess.

Let me know your thoughts:

Do you have any suggestions or opinions for fairytale references for next chapter?

Want to read more on Freddie/Char? I haven't tagged Freddiexoc so I'm a bit hesitant to go overboard there.

What are your opinions on Yona's momma? And James first impression/meeting with her?

Thank you to all the people following and favoriting the story!

Thank you for the lovely reviews from two guests as well as **natsumi456** and **kakananime123!**


	14. Reflection

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Mulan!**

 **Yona's POV:**

"And that's all there is to it," I finished explaining while drawing a signature cat face overtop in ketchup.

"Hmm," Charles commented with a distracted look that told me he didn't catch a word of the recipe he learned.

"Right. So I'm bright enough to gather that this isn't about your burning desire to make omelette rice, Char." A frown creased my mouth as I caught the clenched fists he hid behind his back, while he continued to feign that calm demeanor—as though he's cut from something solid yet fragile like thin ice or glass.

"Madame is having Rita Skeeter in office on Wednesday," he deflected, examining his curled fingers as though they were the most fascinating object in the world. It was certainly a distracting, abet disturbing, topic to glide into.

"Huh," I mused, tapping my index finger against his countertop. "She's not dead yet?"

"No one could ever kill off the wicked stepmother _that_ easily," Charles admitted while tapping his finger to his bottom lip. The man had a weird oral fixation that I yearned to know nothing about. "Except maybe Molly Weasley."

My hands froze at the W word. "Are we actually nearing the main topic? Hold my spatula, Char. I'm going into cardiac arrest."

"My grandfather almost died from one of those. Yaxley's don't keel over quite that easily though," Charles continued on unperturbed by my teasing. "I told Freddie I fancied him."

The spatula fell from my hand. _Goodbye old friend, you've served us well._ "I'm sorry. What!?"

He gracefully ignored me, reaching forward to pick up the spatula that dirtied his pristine floor. "And I suggested to him that we start dating."

"You've lost your damn mind!" The accusation could have come out harsh if it wasn't for the big grin on my face. They were both beautiful men, after all; the pairing together would be sweltering pot of attractiveness. "What'd he say?"

The room filled with silence—impregnable and suffocating me with dread.

Gently, I reached out, tilted his chin to face me and frowned. "Char..."

"Nothing. He left. I just want him to take me out," he grumbled.

My big sarcastic mouth couldn't resist. "Like on a date or with an Avada?"

I fully deserved the glare I received. "Oh I don't know, Yona. Perhaps both?"

This time, it was my turn to laugh. "I never would have pegged you as a _tsundere_ ," I mumbled with a smile. He was being all shy and cute about his affections for a certain auburn haired man. It was adorable. "You've been so secretive about this, even with me."

Charles slowly nodded. "We've been like this since I was at Uni as an assistant. For him it's attraction or lust, not love shite."

"And what about you?"

The expression on his face tore at me. It said: love. Yet it also said: he'll never want me like that in his life. And, _what is wrong with me?_

"Perhaps I'll admit defeat. Maybe I'll just get an arranged marriage or matchmaking, too." He grumbled, blue eyes shifting out the window.

"Excuse me?" Did he just say arranged marriage? Who the hell still does that? It's the 21st century.

"That's what Freddie's mom apparently wants for him and he appears to be consenting," he sulked from beneath his blonde bangs. "Perhaps I should follow that example."

"It's not those times anymore, though. Being bound by family duty and expectations, it isn't right without proper consent. We have rights!"

The man in front of me grunted, avoiding my gaze.

"It's easy to stay in a life of tolerance. Not comforting but usual and routine; mundane." I thought to the perfect world my mother wanted me to fit into, envisioning the life of despair behind a pretty mask. Rules of etiquette, polite and vapid conversations, and a slow and steady trail into shallow yet blinding madness.

"Boring," Charles translated, his arms hugging himself for comfort.

Amen to that.

"Is that what you want? A boring life," I questioned, my stare hardened. "The Char I know would never settle for that."

"Of course not," his blue eyes blinked at me. "But I can't force him to be with me. I'm not barbaric, and I can tell when someone's ashamed of being with me."

"Did he say he's ashamed of being with you?"

"Not directly," Charles sighed. "But I can tell. And honestly, I should have known better than to get attached to a Weasley—of all people—my family would shite frisbees."

"Yeah, but your family actually knows your dating men. They might get over it—well, your mom might." With that in mind, a thought occurred to me. "Has Freddie told _anybody_?"

A shake of his head screamed denial, "I'm not certain he even accepts himself."

"So what will you do?" I asked, my heart breaking for him.

Charles glanced out the window and deeply sighed, "I'll wait."

XXX

"Tadaima! I'm home," I announced, my mouth frowned when my ears met silence. The kitchen light lit the small entry as I shucked off my shoes. "James?"

The state of the kitchen was empty and spotless; did he clean everything? I found the living room to be the same, as my eyes shifted over neatly stacked books and supplies. The only object out of place was a long box with an envelope set on top.

Strange; gazing at it felt familiar—almost nauseatingly nostalgic.

"Boo." I jumped as a pair of arms covered my eyes and hit breath tenderly whistled into my ear. "Shhh. Mikasa just fell asleep. Don't want to wake her; do we?"

"James!" James grabbed my wrist, deftly gathering my back into his chest. "Ahh, you baka! James," I whined as I fell against him.

As I helplessly squirmed, James laughed, sat back against the couch, and readjusted so that I was sitting in his lap, with his hands securely clutching my arms.

I felt my pulse jump, but no in a good way. "W—what do y-you think you're doing?" I stuttered, panic steadily flooding my system. Though his hold was tight, it wasn't tight enough to hurt me, though I was far from reassured.

James leaned in close, his lips skimming the shell of my ear. I could hear—hell, I could feel— him inhale as he huskily whispered, "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" His warm breath licked at my skin.

I shivered, half in dread and half because my skin was surely going to ignite. "Not a clue, you perverted alien!" I cried, my body struggled for any sort of release. Gradually, I realized I no longer felt safe in his arms, in fact, without seeing his face it could have been Tora. "Let me go!"

James laughed, playful and teasing. "Never. I'll never let you go, princess," his lips grazed my ear and then kissed the spot, as one hand reached to tickle my side.

Like the flip of a switch, my body resolutely convinced me this was Tora, his strength holding me down in attempt to control me. I had been returned to him—no, the edges of my mind fractured as I realized I never left.

We never escaped the facade.

As I thrashed to the point of brimming tears, James discovered everything was not playful, or copacetic even, but he made the wrong choice in how to handle it. He tightened his hold and I screamed.

He pulled back immediately, dropping the arms suffocating me, but leaned his face into the back of my head. "Yona," my name sounded muffled since his mouth was pressed against my hair, sending a path of calm yet deliciously hot tingles down my body.

My chest heaved anxiously and wiping at my face, it was a surprise to not find wet tears. "I don't like being r—restrained," I murmured, voice stuttering pathetically.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a quick nod of his head. "I was messing around. I just missed you and wanted to hear you laugh, I swear."

It wasn't his fault; he had to know that he shouldn't feel guilty. This stress was not his doing. "Tora used to pin me down—relinquish in the control of it. It's not your fault, James." Turning around to face him, I placed a hand against his cheek. "You didn't know. It's okay."

He buried his face into my shoulder, nodding quietly until I shift back around to lightly recline.

I felt the rise and fall of James' chest since my back was pressed firmly against him, sitting in his lap while his hands remained on either side of him. Each of his hands were flipped up within my view—as though displaying a submissive surrender.

Then I heard a strange sound, a bit different from inhaling or breathing. Surely, James could not be... "A-Are you _sniffing_ me?" I asked, incredulously.

"You smell really nice," was his response.

"You perverted space alien!" My cheeks inflamed. I tried to pull away from him, but James' face followed—nose now pressed against the base of my neck, while his lips accidentally slide along the fleshy area where shoulder met neck.

I moaned at the contact, immediately sensitive to the intimate touch. How was it possible to go from panicked to aroused in a matter of minutes?

"Sorry," he repeated against my skin, evoking another round of shivers. "I would never harm you, I promise. And I never will, alright?"

Closing my eyes and slowly turning to face him, I allowed myself to boldly request, "Would you—um, wrap your arms around me?" I stiffened with hesitation as I waited for an answer. "Don't worry, I'm not going to scream or anything."

"You sure?" He asked while he reached for me to comply to what I asked.

Noticing his hesitance, I grasped his hands until they surrounded my waist, and then I took my own hands and lightly drew circles on the tops of his shoulders. James relaxed at first yet, when I marveled at the goosebumps that formed on his arms, he tensed up again.

James gulped nervously when I moved forward to wrap my legs on either side of his hips, his eyes never leaving mine as I lowered myself into his lap. I stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his left shoulder, running my fingertips down his arm until they touched his palm.

As my body drew closer, warmth flushed against warmth, the intensity of his gaze overwhelmed me. He even remained composed as my fingers slid along the ridges of his chest and ribs—a calm, watchful stare with the promise to devour. Those hazel eyes were burning but his posture was still stiff as stone, eliciting his uncertainty.

A small, weak laugh escaped my from mouth as I shook my head once more. "I'm sorry, James. I'm still trying to figure this all out." Too embarrassed to make eye contact, I lifted a leg and turn around in his lap so that my back flush with his strong chest.

"W-well, um, did you?" he asked me hoarsely, slowly relaxing his arms surrounding me. "Figure it out that is."

Those arms that once felt deceptive now felt so warm and protective around me—like a security blanket.

"I think I'm starting to," I said, and leaned my head back against his shoulder—now fully relaxed.

"Good," was his reply with that easy grin.

"I've a girl back home who's unlike any other..." James randomly hummed along to the familiar tune, hugging me even closer to him. For a brief moment, he rocked us back and forth with a grin.

I giggled as I recited, "Yeah, the only girl who'd love him is his mother..."

James scoffed in mock outrage, tickling my sides in retaliation. "Why you little... My Nana surely loves me, I'll have you know."

"Of course, lucky little duckling," I mocked back through my laughter as I pinched his cheek affectionately. "Your family surely loves you."

James paused, face turned serious as he slid me around to face him again. He played with my fingers, nervousness oozing from his features. "Speaking of family," he started and furrowed his brow before locking his hazel eyes with my own. "I met your mother today."

His words paralyzed me—leaving me frozen and wary. "Oh. She was here?" The words were hushed so I cleared my throat and tried to sound firm. And way stronger than I felt screaming inside of me. "You met my mother?"

"Met—sort of," he considered with a wave of his hand. "I was more commanded. She's...charming."

I snorted at his carefully selected words. "That sounds like her. What did she say?"

James scratched the back of his head for a moment. "Well, it want the best meeting circumstance."

I raised an eyebrow when he paused—the corner of my mind expecting the worst.

"I was dressed up at the time," he confessed with a laugh. "With makeup and the works."

 _That_ was my mother's first impression of him. Oh Hell Helga Hufflepuff, give the man some mercy. "Was she terribly rude about it?"

He shrugged, almost helplessly. "She didn't acknowledge me much, honestly, so much that she didn't bother with proper introductions apparently." He chuckled as his eyes lingered briefly on the ceiling. "Besides, Mikasa assured me I looked fit."

When I imagined my daughter's serious face as she firmly pointed to the words on her notepad for James, it was impossible not to crack a smile. The clever little bean sprout. "I'm sure she did."

However, my joy was short lived as I read the letter on top of the box. My family certainly did that to me; it was instant dread and the promise of suffering.

Growing up, the reflection in the mirror had been my worst enemy—constantly failing in the eyes of my mother. Although my father had definitely served as my saving grace, the atmosphere had down-spiraled in our house after his death.

I would never be the perfect daughter, just like I could never fit the expectations of the perfect bride.

Years ago I had recognized this in the immaculate looking glass, and I chose a different life. The life where I cut off and changed my signature red hair, a talking point of my 'unique beauty' that's been blessed by my ancestors. The life that broke my mother's heart.

But I'd chosen my daughter over her expectations, and I would not regret the reflection staring straight back at me now. That choice would never change; no matter how I looked on the outside, how I felt inside was not something I'd sacrifice or hide.

For anybody.

"She wants me to come for a marriage arrangement," I read out loud, distributing my weight from foot to foot restlessly.

There was a forced smile on James' face. "Oh yeah? You gonna go?" He tried to tease but the tone shifted dryly, revealing his tenseness.

"I will go as expected of me," I deadpanned while skimming the letter from my mother. I had no intention of agreeing to any arrangements, but I felt another discussion with my mother was long overdue. Perhaps I would even change my hair to satisfy that one expectation—if only to hack it off again and leave it behind once again.

"You're joking," he said, sounding like he had received a kick to the gut. "Don't do this, please." It sounded like the words were meant for himself, an unsettling feeling stirred inside me.

Agonizing seconds passed until I glanced up from reading and studied James quietly for a reaction, only to have him avoid my eyes.

"James..." I reached out to cup his cheek—falling short to graze my fingertips against his jawline.

"Hm?" His eyes slowly lifted to meet mine and he stood up a bit straighter—as though expecting the worst. It reminded me of a disappointed, crying Mikasa. "Yeah?"

"I have to do this," I said firmly, a clenched fist crumpling the letter in my hand. Teeth chewed at my inner cheek, as I summoned the courage to tell him the truth. That I didn't _want_ to marry someone my mother arranged. I am a grown woman with choices and the ability to support myself. My mother didn't have the power to control me anymore.

"I think I'm going to head home now. Time to think, you know?" A blend of sadness and anger inched across his features, until it settled for tugging the corners of his mouth downwards. Resignation into discontentment at our exchange, or maybe it was towards our relationship in general.

The expression on my face must have been stricken because James immediately faltered, taking a step towards me.

"Yona..."

A wince crawled across my features, eyes pinched as I forced my gaze towards him. An unbearable urge to say, 'Stop. Please don't call out my name with such a pained voice, pressed down on me yet my lips were bare.

"Yona. What is it you want me to do? I just—"

"It's alright... You can leave." They all do anyways, the tiny voice in my head cruelly added. Father... and then everyone else after Tora sunk his claws into me. "Leave, James."

James' brows lowered with confusion, quickly replaced by another flash of pain. The sigh he released was heavy. "As you wish, Princess," he muttered, soft as a feather, as he collected his bag.

Hand placed on the doorknob, he paused to glance at me one more time, adding, "I'll wait for you."

The door softly clicked shut yet it echoed so loudly in my head.

 **Mikasa's POV** :

Prince Daddy is sad but I don't know why. I have two daddy's now: Tora and Prince Daddy. Miss Lucy, my teacher, says that my family is growing. That made me happy.

I've seen a mad, bad daddy but never a sad daddy. Tora is a mad daddy that is sometimes bad to mommy. He hurts mommy and makes her cry—so we don't live with Tora no more.

Mommy changed since she cut off her red hair and gave it to Tora—it was silly of mommy and I laughed. Mommy smiles and laughs now, too.

Maybe mommy can give Prince Daddy a hug? Mommy's hugs always make me happy, so Prince Daddy will be happy again, too.

"Maaa!" Like always, I hope I said mommy right because it sounds so funny in my ears—the sound don't come out. Not hearing sometimes makes me sad but that makes mommy sad, too, and I love mommy. I don't want her to be sad.

My face tugged in a smile when she lifted me into her arms, swinging me into a fun circle. Mommy is silly like that.

After a moment of bouncing, running to my room and grabbing my picture, I proudly gave her the bestest artwork ever.

But then it made her frown and look confused, and that made me worried. Tora tells me that mommy is lonely without him, but I think she is doing okay.

"Mikasa..." Mommy signed my name carefully, tapping her finger against what I wrote. "What do you mean, 'Daddy found us?" I heard her say Tora's name but she didn't look at me, so I shook my head. Wrong mommy. I giggled and looked at my picture of Prince Daddy with me and mommy.

I read Prince Daddy's lips once and learned that he calls mommy, "princess." With a smile, I agreed because mommy is the kind of princess who could help save a prince. Mommy is amazing.

"We found Daddy," I told her, slowly signing, and laughed. Actually, I found Daddy—silly mommy didn't even get his name right—but I don't want to make her sad. Even though she had been drawing him a lot, and sometimes he wore a strange crown.

Mommy gasped. That's a big word: gasped. It sounded silly, like mommy, but I got too sleepy suddenly to laugh again.

I looked up, eyes itchy and wet before signing out, "Family. My family."

Mommy clapped her hand over her mouth, eye wide and wet like mine. Maybe she's sleepy, too?

 **A/N:**

Man it felt like this took me FOREVER to be even the least bit satisfied with this chapter. I love feedback and suggestions for fairytale stories to work into the plot line so please let me know what you think and anything you might suggest! Who's POV would you like to see?

Special thank you's to everyone who have followed and favorited! Also, thank you to **nowayitendslikethat** and **kakananime123!**

Review review review! Please? :)


	15. Habits of the Heart

**I don't own Harry Potter! Or any references to fairytales, obviously.**

 **enjoy!**

 **James' POV:**

Our tea had just arrived at breakfast when Freddie waved the dreaded parchment in my face. It was an invitation to a tea ceremony with marriageable attendees. Despite explaining the situation—or, as Freddie insisted, there lack of—with Charles Yaxley, he continued to paste on a fake smile.

"Mum wants me to go. It could be fine," Freddie attempted to lie to himself. "And it will help me get back on the right footing."

In all honestly, walking into one of those situations for us was akin to stumbling blindly into a pit of vipers. A bloody nightmare.

Though, a least the vipers wouldn't be fixated on getting into your pants.

"You're an idiot," I said, snatching the invitation from his clenched hand. It trembled slightly afterwards—as though the paper had been holding Freddie's puppet strings together. Worry and anxiety could do strange things to people.

"Well, it could be true. And it will get me off whatever scented spell has me going back to Char..."

Pausing my search for the sugar cubes, I raised an eyebrow at him. "Scented spell?"

A pink flush covered his cheeks. "Err, yes... He smells really good, like to the point where I'm smelling his stuff."

"His stuff? Like bedsheets and shirts?" I questioned, leaning back against the chair trying to imagine it.

Freddie appeared extremely reluctant to what he was about to admit, "Shirts, sheets...shoes, jumpers—"

"I'm sorry. Did you just say you _smell_ his shoes?" I covered my mouth to keep the laughter bubbling in my throat contained. "Right, go on."

"Shut up. Don't look at me like that!" He scowled with a roll of his eyes. "It was only like once or so."

"Mhmmm, sure. You're such a sicko," I teased, finally releasing a chuckle at my strange cousin. "Were you baked?"

"I don't care if you call me perverted, you sticky prat. It's not like I committed any crimes," Freddie argued. "And no, I wasn't high when I did it."

That only made me laugh harder.

Deciding to be blunt, I said, "You know... I kind of get the feeling you like Charles."

"The fuck are you on about?!" Freddie snapped his posture straight, knuckles gripped until bone white as he grabbed the sugar bowl I'd intended. "How did you jump to that conclusion from this conversation? I told you he put some spell on me."

Tone bored even to my own ears, the reply could have been a bit more sensitive. "It's you're reaction, Freddie. You're like a damn book." I rolled my eyes as he scoffed. "That perverted—er, I mean, _scented spell_ aside...You're not repulsed by his confession or anything, right?"

As Freddie took the lid off the bowl of sugar cubes, his brow furrowed and lips pursed before admitting, "Well...no, I'm not. That's right." And then he dumped about seven cubes of sugar into his teacup, he flashed a grin at the look of revulsion surely on my face.

Freddie swirled the sugary mess and tapped at his tea cup. "What about you? You gonna get tired of waiting on your princess?"

Carefully placing a reasonable one sugar cube into my cup, I pursed my lips at him. "Don't know what you're on about."

Freddie rolled his eyes, "Says the man sucking on a lemon. Honestly."

In the beginning of some fairytales, the princess is lacking something—like Snow White or Cinderella, for instance. Both struggled though an adventure, a challenge of misery that they overcome. It only after the last page was turned did the reader discover they were able to to live happily ever after with their princes.

If those characters—the princes as well—had everything figured out in the beginning and there was no conflict, then there would be no story.

Even if our lives were full of thorns, I would embrace her life at the sliver of chance that it would intertwine with mine, for between the thorns sat a bud—waiting—worth any amount of pain.

Godric that was lame. But I guess it showed my willingness to be a fool just to be with her.

"You know having a kid is a lot of responsibility. Even a fool..." Freddie began, trailing off almost sheepishly.

I knew what he was suggesting, he offered me an out in the relationship without realizing the depth or meaning. He was being a considerate family member simultaneously as he placed the dropout card down on the table.

 _You could leave, become a ghost to the both of them_. That's what the card said, yet I didn't want to play it.

"You're right," I acknowledged, a further explanation hanging on my tongue. "But I don't mind being a fool. I know the risks, the possibility of ruin, but they've changed me. I like myself better when we're together."

A long look passed between me and Freddie.

"Bloody hell, Jem Jem. You got it bad," Freddie muttered, an awkward glance fluttering to his tea cup.

"I apologies for the interruption," a man bowed formally at the two of them. "This just came for you Mr. Potter. Here you are, sir."

The delivery man placed a package on the table, the thin scroll attached plummeted my stomach. It was only moments later that my sense of unease was validated by the familiar loopy etchings my mother's handwriting.

"What is it? You're looking particularly ghastly," Freddie commented draining his cup of tea.

"My mum's lost her damn mind," I casually replied, though my expression had to resemble shell shock. "I'll have to pull out dress robes. It appears I'll be attending this nightmare as well."

Over the years I'd grown to loath being caught in the gazes of the elite—to the point of fear oftentimes, or perhaps that's disgust. When they look at me, their eyes are so heavy with expectation—for the legacy of my mother and father—that they don't see me. So many eyes are watching yet all they see is The Prince. Their gazes tell me I must be nothing less than perfect to their vapid ey _es._

Feeling inferior to the accomplishments of our parents was not a foreign experience to the Potter-Weasley clan, unfortunately.

Though I should have known better than to pick Quidditch as a career, despite genuinely enjoying the rush of the sport. It was a limelight for the fawning, preening and peacocking facade.

 _"_ How vexing," I said in a deceptively calm voice that morphed into a tease, "what are you going to wear, Freddie?"

Freddie grinned widely, eyes alight with mischief alike to his father. "Hey, it's a party right? And I heard the shindigs on a boat, so maybe I'll wear a banana hammock."

"A speedo?" I questioned, dropping my face into my hand. "You want to attend a tea ceremony full of elite shites in essentially women's nickers."

"Sounds brilliant, right? Mum will never ask me to go to one again," he said, a dreamy look entering his eyes.

"Or she'll murder you," I shot back with a half-smothered snicker. "Oh Merlin."

"Worth the risk, right? If I correctly recall what you said," Freddie replied unapologetically, gesturing to me erratically. "We both don't mind being fools."

I stared at him, uncertain if he was referring to his own relationship with Charles. "Don't bring on my own demise. Might I suggest business casual at least, mate?"

Freddie grinned wickedly, not the least bit offended. "Jem Jem, you _know I_ look just as good in a suit as I do out of one.

Burying my face again, I confessed, "I really wish I didn't have that image burned into my brain, actually. Please quit bringing it up."

Freddie simply smiled that Weasley smile. "Just you wait," he quietly schemed with a chuckle. "Just you wait."

 **A/n** :

I deeply apologize for this update taking so long due to some depression, leading me into thinking I'm sucking at everything and writing as well. I've got some of the next chapter written so I'd love to hear what anyone's guesses on what's going to happen next!

Special thanks to those who've favorited and followed. And a shout out to **nowayitendslikethat (** James with definitely get wooed eventually, I promise, but it's a slow build!) and **kankananime123 (** I know! I love Mikasa even though that POV was a challenge for age authenticity!)

Thank you everyone for reading!


	16. Through the Looking-Glass

**I don't own Harry Potter! Or any references to fairytales, as always. I'm looking at you Alice in Wonderland this time!**

Special note: This chapter has been rewritten a bit because I didn't like it before (and I'm still a bit irked at it now). I do plan on releasing the next chapter very soon, though.

 **Chapter 16: Through the Looking-Glass**

 **Yona's POV:**

 _I was in hell_.

"Yona, do you still remember how to pour tea correctly?" My mother asked me, but asked was a rather pour choice of words. The cuts of disapproval that were laced within her tone warned me to appease her, a correct answer meant keeping my head.

 _Oh Great Queen of Thy Thorn in My Arse._ I bowed to her mentally, a perfect dogz _a_ of groveling. "Of course, Mother." Her eyes appraised me critically, expecting a change in my answer.

I balked at accepting her ridiculousness, while she narrowed her eyes at my English tongue.

" _Mother_?" She pressed, the apparent disapproval in her eyes nagged that she would not let this go.

 _Living hell_.

I sighed as we walked over to our assigned table. "Of course, okaasan." My mother nodded in approval at my correction. For those unaware, _okaasan_ means mother in Japanese.

"Oh, Seki! I haven't seen you in ages." One woman tendered forward at our table to grasp onto my mother's hands. The smile and greeting my mother returned was polite and friendly enough, but I knew tolerance when I saw it.

"Oh and this must be the beautiful daughter I've heard so much about," the woman continued on and actually grabbed my chin. Her eyes greedily took in my features as though measuring if I lived up to her expectations.

The conclusion she drew up left my stomach heavy with lead.

"Such pretty hair," the woman commented lightly, her hand released my face dismissively. "The color is shocking, how strange."

Why did it always come to this? Whenever I was in the presence of my mother, it was like I was put on trial. Even as a grown-ass woman, not a child anymore, it felt the same. Certainly wasn't the first time I'd been remarked as strange, nor that I didn't live up to someone's expectations.

Over the years saddled with my mother, expectations curried me like a mindless animal awaiting further direction. The very memory of living with her left me empty, like a shell meant to be gazed upon but not speak. And while had become accustomed to it all and smiled prettily at the time, I felt no one could see me. Not really, and I suppose that led me to believe that no one could hurt me inside.

 _That's in the past._ I had to remind myself of that fact and push forward, move away from the pain that my mother and Tora caused.

My mother poked my arm, interrupting my train of thought as the table conversation proceeded to slowly kill me.

Following my mother's orders, I properly poured the tea for all the ladies at our table then took a cup myself, stirring and setting the tiny spoon down on the saucer. I straightened my shoulders and placed my hands in my lap. With an internal sigh, I hoped to get through tonight so my mother and I could have a serious conversation.

One survey around the room and the intricately drawn lifeless portrait of an atmosphere was as clear as the massive crystal chandelier looming over the center of the dance floor. Its grandiosity threatened to crush us all at one moment of missed step. No expense was spared, at least none where I could see.

My pinkies fiddled like a silent drumroll, while my insides crawled—a magnet shaking with the need to move. I grabbed my teacup moments later in effort to busy my hands and downcast my eyes into the teas warmth.

The familiar color of the tea remind me of James' eyes—steam curling in a slow burn—when he's sullen about something. Sourpuss eyes.

Since our argument, I haven't seen him and the twinge in my chest points out a fact I don't want to recognize. It's longing; I miss him. Mikasa misses him, too, and the pinch of that hurts deep.

It makes me mixed up and desperately sad, and for some reason thinking about him sitting at my dining table amplifies the weird pain in my chest.

And the fact that Mikasa called him Daddy...that was a topic we never got to since our rift. Something necessary to speak with Mikasa about as well—for her it might be a time of intense confusion. At her most recent daycare open house, the teacher had teased about Mikasa proudly proclaiming her "Prince Daa is the best" to the class on numerous occasions.

 _What was wrong with me?_ To jump from one depressing situation to the next like some huge puzzle was irrational. There were times that life just frustrated expectations.

Heaving a sigh that sounded rather affected, even to my own ears, I figured it was best to rejoin the conversation. There was no use being maudlin.

Or so I presumed.

"I was quite disturbed to hear the catering was being done by elves without the direction of us wizards. But these stuffed mushrooms are divine," the lady diagonal from me preened with a gentle pat to my mother's shoulder. Everyone around acted as if she did not just make an offensive, offhand comment about the liberation of elves.

As I poured tea for another woman joining the table, my mouth sprinted away from me. "Oh? Do the mushrooms make you grow a little?" _In the brain department,_ I added to myself. "It's remarkable, really. Hermione Granger-Weasley has made great leaps for the equality of elves," I finished.

 _"_ Hmph," the woman snickered to her friend. "If only Granger made great leaps for that hair of hers."

I jumped to protest. "Why you—"

As my mother tutted, I bit my tongue and swallowed the urge to give this woman a tongue-lashing. Instead I pictured the woman as I would someone who didn't know better, like Mikasa painting on my favorite blouse.

"We all don't feel comfortable in our own skin at some point, right? I'm too big, I'm too small...I envy her hair but that hairstyle is horrendous. It's great that we've grown since puberty and can recognize such things as petty now though, isn't it?" I babbled. "Personally, I find Ms. Granger-Weasley's work and advocacy to be brilliant."

Unbeknownst to the woman throwing a confused look at me, my mother's gaze was sharp as an axe. _Behave_.

"Y-yes," the woman said finally with a pout. "I suppose it is refreshing."

"Not everyone is of the refreshing sort," another woman commented not bothering to look at me. "They really laxed on the invitations for this event. I think I saw a Yaxley earlier."

Some of these women clearly wanted to be decked. Protesting seemed to be my thing today. "Not all the Yaxley's—"

"Well, we will want to remain of this side of the room. Well off families mingle here," my mother's tersely advised, interrupting me. "Popping up everywhere yet lingering in the shadows."

Narrowing my eyes with sarcasm already on my tongue, I said, "Sounds unsanitary. Perhaps they should call pest control because you make them sound like cockroaches."

Nervous laughter ensued from a few ladies that could not handle awkward silences.

"You know I don't like when you speak like that, Yona," my mother warned in a whisper. "It's rude."

"My apologies, _okaasan_."

My mothers eyes flashed, as frigid as a bucket of cold water ready to toss into my face.

"I heard that a few Potter's and Weasley's might be in attendance today," another woman conspired to break the tense atmosphere.

My head snapped up, attention to the tea ceremony in front of me as faltering as a string about to snap.

"Oh," my mother commented. She had a terrifying ability of putting more meaning into a single word that anyone I knew. That includes Rita Skeeter, by the way. So when the Queen said _Oh_ , it spoke volumes—mostly about how not surprised or happy she was about something. "We should be so fortunate. But I overheard an even handsomer connection would be here."

At her words my stomach recoiled in anticipated horror, instantly forgetting the slight against my best friend. I begged for my suspicions to be wrong. _Don't_. _Mother...please. So help me if she says his name..._

Similar to a young girl finding the trail of a certain white rabbit, I become lost again. This time, unfortunately, that includes hope as well. A tenuous cloud of emotion hazed my vision, while a desperate need to scream inched up my larynx. I felt trapped, bordering on suffocation.

"I also heard a dashing Yaxley is rumored to be arriving as well," a familiar sarcastic drawl dusted over the table—like a blanket of stunned silence tucking away every corner of conversation. "Thought you should know. What do you think, fair rose?"

 _How ironic, they were just talking shit on you._

"Char—" the passage for air in my lungs unclogged, my shoulders relaxing in tension. Without thought, my legs stood to greet him but my mother's hand lashed out to reseat me.

"Charles," my mother commented on his presence—it's an interference in her book and he knows it. Her nickname for us is the rose and the snake, though the wittiness of the reference is not kind. My mother prunes her rose garden to perfection and she despises snakes. Squashes and skins them.

Char sent my mother a playful smirk and winked at me, "How about we take a turn about the dance floor? The queen of thorns doesn't seem to mind." He bowed low to my mother, who looked ready to burst a blood vessel as Char grasped my hand.

"Don't interfere," she demanded coldly while her viselike grip on my shoulder tightens. "He'll be here soon," she warned me in a whisper.

 _No. No no no._

The tightrope I had been tendering on snapped, pitching my body full force into this predictable situation. One of which I desperately had not wanted to acknowledge.

It felt like my foot stepped down for a stair that didn't exist, the wind knocked out of me.

"You invited him?" A soft rush of air passed my lips—the only indication that this voice was my own.

She fastened the grip she had on my shoulder tighter—practically bruising—until it was pushed away by a harsh flick of my hand. As that hand fell away, the expression on her face was severe. "You just never get things done by yourself. He's a good man and it's what's best—"

I blinked, slowly as though deciphering one of Mad Hatter and the March Hare's riddles. "What's _best_? What did you do?"

 _Did she sell me off like cattl_ e?

"Nothing so dramatic as you're acting, Yona. I worry that's—"

"Worry." I spat out the word with bitterness on my tongue. The cloth from my lap makes a soft thud when hastily transferred to the table, interrupting her explanation.

She looked dreadfully pale and sad. Like through the strong facade, she's on the verge of shattering.

"Ah, apologies okaasan," I offered, gazing at a teacup in thought. The delicate china didn't deserve the violent imagination conjured up for it, so I resisted theatrics. "I will return momentarily...sometime."

 _When I'm not so damn furious with you._

"Y-Yona—" she hissed, having no time to properly react as my legs carried me away from the suffocating atmosphere of that table. My mother watched as I accepted Char's hand with open defiance, her mouth agape.

"I'll just hang in there and keep interfering," Char grinned and then locked eyes with my mother. "But you must know that you're striking your child in an abruptly harsh manner. Doing what you are, great queen."

Her face turned frigid, eyes glared into silent daggers.

The sigh that escaped from my lips was heavy with relief, "Give her a few seconds and she would have screamed out, 'viper in my bosom.' I swear it."

"I have no doubts," Charles commented, taking lead of the dance once we reached a spot far enough away from my mother and other eavesdroppers. "Why do you follow what she asks? Your hair, for one—"

"I'm hurt, Char. You don't like my natural mess?" I asked dryly, reaching to touch a curl.

"—is stunning but you'd changed it for a reason, Miss Smart Mouth. Something about her pitching a fit if the rose wasn't exactly what she'd envisioned." He finished his comment without a hitch and expertly twirled me around.

He spoke the truth. Vulnerability must have shone through as I pondered because Char's hold tightened slightly.

"I thought we would be able to reach an understanding," I confessed and glanced up at my friend who had an equally pained look on his face. "I'll live my life separate from her own vapid world."

"She didn't agree with that, did she?" After the question he winced as I accidentally stepped on his foot.

 _Merlin I'm an awful dancer._..

"Sorry," I apologized immediately but he shrugged it off.

I looked away and continued with a moment of hesitation, "No. She finds it all absurd: my silly job, my living situation, and being a single mom. Keeps saying our situation is precarious despite the fact that I send her money each month because the money my father left behind is dwindling to nothing."

"Dammit," Charles sighed as he leaned forwards to lock eyes with me. "When will she stop?" A rhetorical question, of course.

We continued to dance through another song and, ahem, a few more stomps on Char's feet delivered by yours truly. Then, I barely managed not to trip over his leg when Char froze—as though petrified by a Dementor-like presence far behind me.

Charles' eyes iced over. "Shacklebolt—" he ground out and shook his head. "What is that woman thinking. Damn her."

I sooner wished for a Dementor than the utterance of that name here. The Dementor's kiss had not been used since Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt banished them from the Ministry of Magic. Ironic that the son of that man would create a sense of soullessness. To be by Tora's side was like being an empty shell, no sense of self aside from ornament.

"I'm not mad," I said mostly to convince myself and looked down uneasily. "I refuse to let him get to me like he always does."

Charles nodded before twirling me one last time and the song ended. "I won't tell you to be strong, darling. I already know you are," he noted proudly and placed a lingering kiss on the back of my hand—a spectacle we both knew Tora would be furious at.

He winked with a polite bow, "Go get em, my feisty Puff."

Breathing deeply, I turned to face them.

 **XXX**

They say happiness requires patience and compromise. That statement vexes the hell out of me.

A Prince once told me, "I want to love everything about you," but that line of charm was a decade ago and his tune changed. His true face was selfish and a touch cruel, a descendant of dark-hearted royalty. For that reason, Tora Shacklebolt sat on the Ravenclaw throne riddled with lies.

The moment you relinquished the slab of meat that throbbed inside your chest to him, his mask slipped and that beautiful of his demanded more. A toe out of line and Tora would grab my face, while his own mouth whispered, " _I'm getting tired of your stupidity._ "

Instead of pleasantries and a charming manner, he was ruthless in controlling what belonged to him. Like he was ruthless with me.

It was an unsavory combination for someone who didn't like blindly following rules. As Alice in Wonderland would say, "everything would be nonsense," but I think she was talking about something different (not giving into peer pressure). Oh well, that tiny fact didn't stop me from going on a trial of my own.

 _One after another after another_...

Dreading every step taken, the painful heels on my feet carried me to where my mother innately chatted with Tora.

"Ah, Yona! Look who I found." Practically bouncing on the soles of her feet, my mother grasped my hands tightly and perpetually giggled like a schoolgirl.

As one might have noticed, I did not particularly care about her opinion on the matter. While I was only concerned with protecting my newly established life, I was curious enough to wonder what my mother had promised the man in front of me. Because, to me, he was little more than a charming and charismatic wastrel with a nasty hidden personality.

"Would you look at that," I tersely stated.

"What a striking creature you've been hiding, Seki-chan." That princely face complimented with a lingering glance to my hair and a soft touch to my mother's shoulder. _Seki-chan? Barf._

"Huh." I avoided rolling my eyes only by calling on long practiced restraint, narrowly. "Shall we head back towards the table, mother?"

Eagerness to rush away from the situation caused me to start over without waiting for her response. Unfortunately, my ex had other plans and scooped up my elbow sans warning.

The features of my face ticked, upper lip pulling into a snarl at the careless touch.

"I had hoped you would come to me," Tora smiled dashingly, the facade utterly revolting. "It's been a long time since we've danced."

"I'm too tired for this," was my attempt at mild civility as I brushed away his hand.

"Yes, yes. Your exertions with Yaxley were no doubt exhausting."

My eyes narrowed into slits. _Why you son of a—_

"Actually Tora and I were discussing the two of you." My mother flew in between us and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Now that's a face I'd love to see at family gatherings. Wouldn't you agree, Yona?" The hand on my shoulder squeezed, a gentle encouragement to be obedient. _Barf_.

"Nope," was my blunt response. The man in front of me barely kept his promises to visit Mikasa and struggled to properly take care of her. "Unless you wish to marry him, though I don't quite think they make a book for explaining that type of relationship to children."

"That won't be needed. Oh Yona, always the sharp, wicked tongue." Tora dismissed my refusal with ease, making it appear to be teasing banter. He bent slightly at the waist to huskily murmur into my ear. "I'll always be the first and only for you, my love. Forever."

"And yet you missed your only daughter's open house recently," I rolled my eyes. "Promises forever and love in one breath then comes up bankrupt. How typical."

"I had to work late," he floundered for an excuse.

"Funny. Your secretary said you had a date scheduled. With her. But I suppose that would be 'working late' for you, wouldn't it? Just the usual day in the life of _Prince Shacklebolt."_ I spat his name like venom.

Those golden eyes flashed dangerously. "That's a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding. You're starting to sound like a broken record, Tora." I tutted with a shake of my head. "Misunderstanding, misunderstanding...ever heard of the Boy Who Cried Wolf?"

"You're really too much to handle sometimes," Tora replied as his mask began to slip. "You know the one who loves you. You need me."

I ignored him.

"And you're one to talk about messing around." Tora smirked and pointed out, "You might have sparked interest for now, you know, but he'll grow tired of you."

Forcing myself to comment, I also felt my cheeks grow warmer. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Surely you do." Tora leaned in close and breathed into my ear, "Isn't that right... _princess_?"

For a moment I paled. Only to remember he was just egging me on until I would implode. _He doesn't know about James._

"You're so fucking exhausting," I confessed in exasperation.

"You need me," he repeated arrogantly.

I tried not to give rein to the rather frustrated scowl creeping onto my face. My mother's eyebrows shot up and then pinched in frustration when I created more space between us. Desperately, I ached to scream or thrash about.

Instead I shook my head mussily, "I'm done talking now. I need a drink."

Good Merlin was that the truth. No matter what Tora had to say, I couldn't fathom words to reply productively anymore.

As I turned and walked away, my mother followed behind me through the crowd of people milling about the room. Reaching the opposite side of the room, my hands sought a pair of double doors and slipped outside.

Strangling a groan of relief from the cool air, my body plopped down defiantly in the middle of the stone patio. My intentions for solitude was not to be interpreted as an invitation to converse, unless one wished to be punched.

It's too bad my mother didn't agree with my much needed break. _Off with her head is what she is thinking, no doubt._

"That was rude and ridiculous," she said with a roll of her eyes and an expression of outrage. "And you're sitting on the ground like a child now. What in the world has happened to you over the years? Honestly."

"Perhaps I fell down a hole and bumped my head," I replied sweetly, tracing a finger over a bit of moss. "Still will not marrying that man though, even with the severest concussion."

That seemed to be the last straw for my mother and bent forwards, grabbed my arm and yanked me into a standing position. Then, as though forcing herself to calm, she brushed her hands down my arms.

What seemed to the naked eye as a motherly caress was a ruse, nails bit into my upper arm as she scolded me. "This is not a joke. While you are playing your games, you forget the situation we are in. The money your father left behind has all but dried up."

"Ahh, there lies the truth. You want Tora's money? Fine then, _you_ marry him." Backing away from her, the fabric of my kimono snagged and slightly tore. "Don't worry, mother, I'll find something useful to do with my life. But I will not be sold off and Tora isn't as saintly as you think."

"Don't be ridiculous. Your job will only get you so far, scurrying around like a rat for silly drawings of Potter. Pathetic. We could be comfortable in our situation. I don't understand you. Tora is a fine match—"

"I'm not one of your roses to prune, mother," I interrupted. "I send you money—"

She waved her hand at me. "Why are you being so reckless and selfish? Your father would want you to be better than this."

"I'm being selfish? Have you listened to yourself once since father died? He wanted me to be free." Tears pricked at my eyes. It I pushed them back and turned away so she couldn't see my weakness. "He never would have tried to marry me off...let alone against my will."

"Yona..." my mother called softly behind me. I exhaled, hands clenched as I paused but didn't turn to face her.

"I never told you how lovely you look tonight. Your hair is stunning."

The desire to hack it all off and throw it at her was strong.

A melodic ring of chimes echoed into from the ballroom within, signaling the hour for dining on more than simply tea. I could hear the sounds of the party within, but they seemed muted by the refreshing outdoor breeze, and not nearly as threatening.

"We will discuss this later. Let's return to our table," my mother directed as I trailed behind her. _Why was I following what she asked?_

It was like I was two people being pulled on each side: my mother's begrudgingly obedient rose and...someone else?

 _Who in the world am I, truly?_

The Yona my mother expected was young, a pretty rose to gaze at, and a pleasure to converse with at this propitious evening. What people didn't know was the Yona trapped worriedly inside, screaming for the night to end. So I could just get home and hold my baby...

To the average person, the ballroom's grandness offered plenty: enchanted candles and massive chandelier ablaze, and silk tapestries concealed cold stone walls, while a profusion of flowers, trees and a graceful waterfall granted the room the illusion of an indoor garden. The effect was all very attractive but I wanted no part of it.

I ate little at supper, nerves on edge from this strenuous evening. About the time that the appetizers were consumed, I willed away my wishes for vast quantities of wine and continued to pour tea. Like Sisyphus, I remained hell-bound.

"I cannot believe it. He's actually here. James Potter," a slender woman seated next to me whispered. "So dreamy. He really is like a prince."

Every scrap of my former indifference vanished into nothing as I looked up person in question—at the worn out, fake gentlemanly smile on James' face. The person that I held deep and respect affection towards.

Of all the hearts at the table—Hell in this whole room—mine had to be the only one that truly, genuinely skipped a beat at the mere sight of him. The memories of him flashed erratically—James laughing with Mikasa to as mundane as him sitting at my table and washing dishes with a wide grin.

Staring at him from across the room, I felt my oxygen cut out. I bowed my head and bit back a smile as I tried to appear unaffected. I looked back up at him and then saw him smiling that blinding smile at me and gulped.

My body shivered and swayed closer to James, his natural warmth staving off the loneliness that seemed to swallow everything surrounding me.

 _Act natural, Yona. Just keep pouring tea and, above all, don't lose your shit over James Potter. Don't wag your tail at him like an overexcited puppy begging to be pet._

My mental pep-talk worked swimmingly until those eyes pierced through me, my wrist wobbled, and my grip on the teapot wavered. He gazed at me with an expression that made my heart shake. It's like he pinged himself a reminder on his calendar but he's not sure if it's correct; questioning. Like he's trying desperately to believe what his eyes are seeing: that I'm actually here and not fabricated in his head.

"Is he coming over here?!" I didn't process who squawked the sentiment of horror and excitement.

"Hurry is something in my teeth?" Another woman preened. "How do I look?"

"Godric! Why did I drink so much tea?" A few of them prattled and fussed until silence fell over the table.

My mind was so blank that I almost missed his words, "Good evening, miss." His voice was soft; a tone conveyed confidence and politeness.

Kindness smiled and openness shined as he searched for his next words. "What kind of tea is that?"

I felt my mother's eyes upon me, reminiscent of the hungry manner that Madam Patil has with anything Potter-related, as she analyzed our interaction.

Glancing at him from under my lashes and attempting to assess the effect of my presence, I was dismayed to see that the intensity of his gaze hadn't wavered.

 _Dangerous; this is a damning situation for you to be near, James. Run. Please. Before I'm unable to stop myself..._

"Willow bark tea," I forced my tone to be neutral and polite only to witness a flicker of hurt in James' expression. Then came the sullen hardening of his eyes, an aching detail that verified my earlier comparison of the tea to his eyes.

Dammit.

In attempt to recover some of the damage, I scrambled forward palms shaking towards an empty tea cup. "Would you like some?"

"Yes. Please." His response was noncommittal, heart-pulse inducing a painful rhythm within me. James' face betrayed no sign that he found anything odd or endearing in my appearance.

I wilted under the reproach in his eyes and he glanced away, a frown creasing the edges of his lips as he thought.

"Your tea, J—Mr. Potter." My hands felt sweaty as I passed the teacup into his hands, begging him to look at me once again. I needed him to understand how dangerous it was for him to be near me, yet also communicate how much I longed or that nearness.

 _I'm lonely without you but I refuse to be your ruin..._

"Would it be bothersome if I borrowed you for a moment, miss?"

I shook my head vigorously. "It's alright."

"Not at all?" He asked me, "I'd hate to intrude on everyone. Would that be the case?" He gently placed the tea cup down and stared at the ground a moment longer before glancing up at me.

The expression on his face almost dared me to answer as if issuing a challenging riddle and that I was selected to answer. I continued to stare at him stunned. The look he gave me was one I'd never seen unveiled, and I'd stalked his facial features a plenty over the years.

He must have been pretty confident, perhaps I had been too blinded by his kindness and affection to notice that borderline reckless arrogance.

I suppose I was at fault for his reaction; did he think I was deceiving him? But he was practically royalty in the realm of socialites.

 _The perverted space alien should be more careful than this._

"No trouble at all, sir," was my polite reply. _Sir? The hell was spewing from my trap._

As the sensation of sweat ran down my cheek, I hesitated at the challenge in his smile. The glint in his hazel eyes took my breath away and paused the tripped up the beating in my chest.

 _Merlin, that's no prince.._. Leave it to me to practically jump into the sack with the Cheshire Cat.

Bit by bit, I pulled myself together again as I stood. The sleeve of my kimono brushed against my lips in an awkward cough. "Nothing at all, mother." I shook off her curiosity and tried to withdraw into myself so that I'd appear somewhat normal.

To bad I lacked a firm grasp on what normal entailed.

As our eyes met, it felt like James had placed me under a spell and tried my hardest to resist grabbing his face. And his entire body really, but that would surely cause a scene. No, that would not be fair to him at all, so I restrained myself.

James brushed a thumb over his mouth which cause for me to gawk at him. For just a moment my vision blacked out, like a shameful addict going through withdrawals of his taste. It took all my concentration to not press my nose against his shirt collar to inhale his scent like a sucker fish pasted on aquarium glass. It's possible that the expression on my face was ravenous.

I followed him away from the table with a pounding heart to try to focus, ground myself before that lump within my chest burst from anxiety and desire. Honestly, I don't know which is the stronger force to deal with—wanting to shrink away or tear off his clothes.

"The hell are you thinking?" I hissed as soon as we were far enough away to not have eavesdroppers, but that prevent us being watched.

"Are you alright?"

I blinked at him. "Yes..."

"That's a relief," James responded before eyeing the dance floor in the distance a little mournfully, which made me want to ask what he was thinking. That handsome face of his looked amused but also slightly pained. Was he pained because of me? Because of the risk of our... well, whatever you'd call this, being exposed like a vulgar scandal directly to the public eye.

 _If I wasn't so concerned with protecting him, would he be ashamed to stand by my side or dance with me?_

Was James pained because he was experiencing regret? He said he wanted to wait for me to be ready, but maybe he had second thoughts about the commitment. I couldn't blame him, after all; I came with a awful lot of baggage. My job alone probably stifled him.

Yet, it was like I either found myself succumbing to his every whim now, or ran hard in the opposite direction. There appeared to be no in-between, gray area with me.

"Remember when I told you I'd be patient?" He stared down at the cup of tea in his hands, he must have picked it back up before we left the table.

I gazed at the side of his head, at the way the movement of the tea cup pressed to his lips sifted through his dark hair. He had nice hair, just long enough to run fingers through it.

"I vaguely remember the sight of your back that day," I told him. When his hurt-filled gaze snapped to mine, I instantly regretted lashing out. That was me running away again.

His gaze swept over the room, over the dancing couples and prattling conversation. "And whose fault was that?"

My response was immediate. "Mine."

We had been climbing a hill of sorts, stopping briefly to dodge topics like hazardous rocks until we reached the top. Now that we had arrived, I feared the drop down into the rabbit hole.

James glanced back at me. A tug by his hazel eyes, and we were sliding down that hill, the darkness of the rabbit hole threatening to swallow me up.

He took a step towards me, and I stepped backwards to prevent any unwanted attention. Or pictures. Or publicity.

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of me?" His question startled me. It was meant to be a joke, but there was a hint of pained truth.

"And if I was afraid of...you?" I asked. I wasn't. I was more afraid of what I could do to him, and what he meant to my tiny family.

James fingers had fallen from around his tea cup, setting it down gently on the nearby table, to reach out to brush against my knuckles. "Then maybe you should prepare yourself to face your fear."

With that he bowed formally and left me, avoiding my eyes after he curled the tea cup between his palms. Meanwhile, I numbly returned to my seat feeling exhausted.

The evening was not even halfway over and collapsing felt like an all too real future. My shoulders were knotted and tense, appetite vanquished, and my fingers would not cease clenching around fistfuls of my rumpled kimono—which was thanks to my trip on the ground to sulk town.

 _I'd probably looked a mess to him._

"Yona?" My mother was not helpful to my efforts in appearing calm, even as I tried to pour tea once again for a gentleman who visited our table. For the second time, my hand on the teapot wavered. "Have you interacted personally with James Potte—"

In true Mad Hatter fashion, this crazy tea party just exploded into chaos. Tea spilled everywhere, finger foods soaked up liquid like a thirsty beached whale, and my mother's face tweaked as a cherry tomato rolled across the lap of her new kimono.

The combination of chaos and impropriety would no doubt inspire my mother a swooping fit—not too far off from how a barn owl seized a mouse.

The word FUCK lights up neon in my brain, a daunting glare of communication for my neurons. My mother's face was so livid it's visceral.

"Excuse me!" I rushed to the bathroom. The cold water rushing over the palms of my hands grounded me as I imagined it to be rain.

My thoughts slid back to my mother and muttered to myself, "this night is so not going as planned."

One glance at the red-haired girl in the mirror confirmed that fact. She looked like a brick house with precarious foundation.

"Keep it together, Yona," I cautioned my reflection in the bathroom mirror, wet fingers grasping my thick hair, as a woman walked in and gave me a strange look. Probably questioning my sanity.

When I managed to force myself back out into the large room, I fumed the entire, torturous trip out of the bathroom until I caught sight of Charles—who seemed about as as pleased as me.

Formerly playful and confident, Char's face smoothed into an unemotional mask to the point of being nearly robotic. Try as he might, my best friend simply could not hide the way his foot tapped slightly—an indication of the roiling mass of emotions that likely raged his mind and heart.

I grabbed a two glasses of wine on my way over to him.

"Some night, huh? Char?" I commented after I leaned against stone wall behind him.

He jumped, clearly taken aback by my sudden appearance then looked beyond relieved as I extended a wine glass towards him.

"I don't know about you but the entire night had been a complete and utter shitshow."

What I really wanted to do was simply leave, go back to my apartment and drink myself insensible. Maybe even have a good cry or duel something.

Thankfully, Mikasa was at Luna's for the night because I was not fit company for _anyone_ right at the moment. And Char seemed to be in the same boat as me...

"Mmm. Potter and Weasley are here," he observed as though the statement spoke volumes. Which it did. "I want to speak with Freddie but it would likely cause a scene."

"What..." I began when Charles interrupted me, "I want it to be a private conversation but _that_ situation is overwhelming so it doesn't seem likely."

I glanced over at where Charles gestured and found James and Freddie's table—swarmed by masses of women. I swallowed and licked at my suddenly dry lips, "Why are some of them kneeling like that?"

Charles sighed and shook his head, muttering, "Bloody idiots" in regards to the scene before us. "They are waiting for an invitation."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest and asked, "Invitation...What are you talking about?"

Charles exhaled deeply but managed a slight smile. "Those women are practicing an arbitrary custom of waiting for a respectable suitor to offer up a dance..." He trailed off, sadness mingling with curiosity in his expression.

"Offering themselves for a dance?" My eyes squinted a fraction before I knocked back my glass of wine. For some reason the prospect of James dancing with anyone irked me. "More like eyeing the two of them like a lion studying a delicious looking gazelle."

"Mmm," he murmured, eyeing the table dividing us and the sparse dance floor.

Another round of thumping heartbeats now resounded through my body—bouncing along my spine, jackhammering my eardrums and tingling the pads of my feet. Before I fully questioned what I was about to do, the sound of my empty wine glass clacked harshly against the table. The table that I considered vexing in how it divided us, so my solution to that obstacle was to climb underneath.

"Oi, Yona. What are you doing?"

 _Did I know what I was doing? Not really. But I don't want him to dance with anyone else._

In the short time that we had come to know each other, the strength and ray of hope he always seemed to give me was undeniable. And I wanted to try to protect him and become the same strength that he awarded me.

I waltzed on over towards The Potter Prince not thinking about the consequences. _I don't care if I'm a shit dancer._

So I extended my heart out to him.

"Will you take my hand?" I asked.

"Yona..." That voice of his caught, briefly bewildered. "..."

 **A/N:**

 **Next chapter will not be Alice in Wonderland because it takes me too far out there. Haha I tend to rewatch/reread what fairytale I work on, so it become a bit of a trial.**

 **Tell me fairytale you would like to see next for James' POV.**

 **Thank you for the favorites, follows and reviews!**


	17. Chapter 17: In My Heart

**I don't own Harry Potter or Tarzan!**

 **James' POV:**

Her hair was as crimson as fire, and when she turned her eyes had a familiar color of crushed silver shrouded by rain clouds. Careful as a traditional tea girl, the woman's hands filled the cups in front of her with precision—as though second nature. That wasn't my Yona; or, at least, it wasn't a Yona that knew.

Back at her table, I had replied to her in a stiff, more polite tone that normal. _What was I doing? Something about that picture just didn't sit well with me._

There had been something about watching Yona make tea that took all the tension out of me, yet it also looked wrong—no forced—and that forcefulness unsettled me.

In that moment, it was clear that my affections for Yona were more than fancy. Immersed by the scent of willow, I fell in love with her over a cup of tea. Sure, falling in love with the idea of her hadn't been easy with both our careers coming into play. But I'd be a fool to believe that the affections I held for this woman were mere like or fancy, it was as clear as the tiny crystal vases placed on each table.

I wanted to pick her up, hoist her over my shoulder and carry her away in that moment. Instead, I had nodded begrudgingly and wadded calmly through the swarms of giggling women. I'd clambered across the floor near the edge of a bubbling fountain, tracing fingertips along the edge of the dark wet surface to imagine what lurked deeper below as I made my way to mine and Freddie's table.

Now, it seemed I'd settled into sulking mode as my mind worked out what to do next.

The music had started up again, echoing in the background as various ladies lingered near our table. A few of the women were even so bold as to kneel with their wrists held out in a faint manner—eyes down and self-degradingly awaiting one of us to grant a dance.

After the seventh woman gracefully arched her arm out like some sort of swan, there was a scoff heard from across the room followed by the heavy clack of fine china. In the high-ceiling room, the sound seemed deafening.

I looked up in surprises at her extended arm. Yona looked to the side, stormy eyes on the floor.

"May I...have this dance?"

All eyes were upon us, analyzing our every move. The nearby guests began to murmur at the sight of her brazen request. Like a flash of lightning, she finally met my eyes and my heart squeezed. Fascinated by the blinding light, I waited for rolling thunder as I kept her waiting with bated breath.

I felt the back of my neck tingle with apprehension. I never though Yona would be the first to ask for my hand.

Antsy, Yona dropped her arm and squirmed. I raised an eyebrow, quietly seeing what she'd do.

"Well..." The woman before me bit down on her lower lip, mouth resisting the familiar scowl as her cheeks flared. "Will you dance with me?"

Once again, she offered her hand to me. Two strides—that's all it took—and I was in front of her, both of my hands cupped around her hand like a prayer. Without another moment of hesitation, I accepted her.

I brought my hand up to cup hers, and skimmed my fingers against her palm. To touch her; to lead her away from the reproach of this audience, that's what I wanted to do all night.

"Yes, princess." I noticed Yona's eyes anxiously searched mine as I answered.

One of the ladies bent beside our table scoffed, feathers starting to ruffle as she whispered angrily to the women beside her. It was best to leave the area as soon as possible before any drama officially started.

"Quickly now," I said as I tugged on her hand.

We made our way onto the dance floor as the next song began. She tensed up when I held her waist firmly and we swayed in time with the music. The warm feeling that bloomed in my chest every time I held her was there again as I lead her through the dance.

With a faint grin, I made sure to take the lead. Her feet were as cumbersome as I remembered, but that did not quash the yearning that I felt to speak with her. Thankfully she'd brought her arms up, snaking them around my neck.

"Well, that was close," I said ruefully. Yona awarded me a weak smile.

"I suppose barreling into your party wasn't very tactful," she agreed regretfully. "I think some spiteful people are watching us now too," she added with a quick glance to the ladies and a very awkward looking Freddie.

My hand stilled at her waist as I watched her, my eyes brimmed with concern. Being the center of attention was an annoyance, at best, but it was something my family was accustomed to. The way her hand fidgeted upon my shoulder, the way those stormy eyes darted around, both amused and unsettled me until I found myself truly smiling while observing her nervousness.

I tilted my head out of curiosity. "Shall I guess at what you're thinking?"

"Huh?" Yona's legs stuttered but I led us through the fumble. Meanwhile, she looked up, eyes wide.

Without missing a beat, I took her hand and twirled her around as I continued.

"You are thinking that I'd rather be in another lady's company, aren't you?" I forced back a laugh when I witnessed the expression of shock and horror pinched her face before she quickly schooled the expression back into that restrained, polite tea girl smile. "Come on, princess."

"It's none of my business who you spend your time with Mr. Potter," Yona remarked leveling me with a sharp glare.

"Oh ho-ho, reducing to my surname. How cold." Unable to resist, I leaned forward while my voice dropped low, "and what if I want it to be your business?"

Normally, I'd expect a woman to flush, or for her to even swoon (as my sister liked to call it), instead the woman in my arms rolled her eyes. Then Yona scowled in a way only my mother ever did when she was displeased.

"Quit messing around, Mr. Potter." I sighed at her stubbornness, but waited as she continued. "I'm being rather reckless right now, and it probably isn't good for you."

"And you're presuming to know what's best for me?" I inquired, slight annoyance creeping into my time. "You asked me to dance Yona and I accepted. Remember that before you decide to push me away again."

She remained quiet, a soft exhale escaping her lips. "I didn't want others to dance with you..." Yona admitted shamefully. "But they would probably be better for you in the end."

"Do you want to know what I think? What _I_ want before you go and choose for me?" I inhaled in effort to rein in the built up frustration I was feeling.

"Yes, Mr. Potter." Yona's eyes danced away from me, so I grasped her chin to lock eyes with me.

She mumbled some sort of embarrassed protest before her feet tangled and fumbled. My arm reached out to steady her before she fell over her own two feet. "Careful," I whispered into her, the feel of warmth coursing over my skin. So badly I wanted to touch her. More...more.

"I won't answer you if you don't use my name, Yona," I sighed and looked at her sternly, earning another eye roll from her.

"Yes, James."

I didn't hesitant, not even for a second. "I want you, princess." A grin tilted up the corners of my mouth. "So don't make decisions for me because I wouldn't do that for you. Talk to me. I promise I'll listen and talk back, and try to understand."

Relaxing her shoulders slightly, she nodded. "Fine," Yona resigned softly as my eyes fainted to her hair. It was so fascinating to look at, the rich red waving down her back.

"Red, huh?" I raised an eyebrow at the inquiry.

"I didn't say anything about it," I protested with a smile.

"No..." She admitted with a sigh. "You're right you didn't, but you _were_ thinking it."

I twirled her around, my feet moving deftly to avoid my partner's shoes that seemed to be on a mission to squash mine. "Why did you change it before?"

Yona's face pinched at the question, her jaw working almost as much as her brain. "Have you ever had the situation where everyone loves something about you so much that you grow to loath it?"

It was a redundant question, really, but she was talking.

"You're referring to your hair?"

"I am." She nodded. "Honestly it gets also gets so fluffy and wavy that I don't understand why everyone fawns over it. It becomes ridiculous and, when it's not controlled, it makes me look like a yokai."

I blinked at her, amused by her reactions. "Yok—what?"

"Japanese folklore," she supplied a bit abashed. "But it's the truth."

Unable to contain myself, a chuckle escaped. She was too damn cute. My eyes briefly observed her appearance. "Either way looks nice." The comment was truthful, not mere flattery. "Personally, I like the way you look lunging after a little one."

"Eh?"

Her head lifted, a murky gaze meeting mine. "You're beautiful when you look like a disaster."

Yona stared at me, mouth agape.

Before I knew it, our dance ended but I refused to let her escape that easily. Grasping her hand, I decided to walk us out on to the patio connecting to the gardens.

I shook my head and placed my hands on the railing separating the pathway to the gardens.

"Such a beautiful night," I commented.

Feeling her lean against the railing next to me, the weight of her stare followed mine and she silently joined in gazing at the night sky.

"It's almost sad...how lonely the night sky feels sometimes."

A frown pulled down the corners of my mouth. "How so?" The night sky always looked so alive and jammed with stars, likening to my own family—every space filled to the brim. But that didn't mean I wanted to be ignorant to what was going on in her mind.

Yona was thoughtful for a moment, eyes appearing a bit lost. "Don't you think the moon ever feels like an outsider? Surrounded by so much twinkling light one night only to have it vanish on another. Like it's going to be left behind..."

For some reason it felt like we weren't talking about the night sky anymore. "Do you feel that way? Like you're an outsider."

"I am," she confessed while glancing down at her hands. "When it comes to you especially, I am an outsider. I don't quite know what to do about it to be honest."

"You're talking about your job...or is it your mother? Or my family?"

Her face was scrunched in frustration when her eyes met mine. "It's all of it. Perhaps we should be saying goodbye..." Her voice became small as she extended her hand out to me. As if a parting handshake would be enough for the both of us.

Instead of clasping her hand as suggested, the fingers of my right hand skimmed the base of her wrist and traced a gentle path until our open hands pressed against each other. Palm to palm; fingers to fingers, until we were perfectly matched.

Two worlds...can become one, right?

"No... I don't think so." A smile pulled at my lips as I continued to star at our hands. "I don't want to say goodbye. We can handle whatever comes our way, as long as you want to."

"What if it's seen as a betrayal to your family?" I gulped, unable to ignore her pleading gaze.

"Well...it can't get any worse than that, can it?" I laughed lightly. Granted my mum probably would take some time to convince, but I wasn't going to back down now.

She sighed, her other hand running over her face. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Just saying that it cannot get any worse _means_ it will likely get a lot worse _._ "

I just smiled innocently at her before returning my gaze to the sky.

Suddenly, Yona broke the long silence.

"Hey...? I want to tell you something."

I glanced at her, amused by her bluntness. "What's that?"

"I..."

I closed my eyes and hummed at her. _What could it be that had her so nervous?_

Eyes popping open in confusion, I turned towards her.

I noticed a pink blush spread across her cheeks and heat the tops of her ears. "I like you, James," she said, but it was so quick that it sounded mashed together like _IlikeJames_.

Her expression eased a chuckle up my throat. "You're so sly, princess." I laughed because the way she'd said it was comical.

Irate, she steamed. "Why are you laughing?"

I smiled quietly, the index finger of my left hand brushing wetness from my eyes. Then I smiled quietly as I leaned forward, kissing the top of her head.

"You reminded me of Tarzan," I admitted as my shoulders tremor at the memory. Tarzan like Jane.

"Excuse you?"

The attempted explanation only drove the foot further into my mouth. I gestured at her, "Tarzan. Like. Jane."

I affectively pissed her off. Through wide eyes she gaped at me, "You're a jerk!"

I really was it seemed.

"But I'm your jerk," I pointed out. "Now tell me, is this fancy like or sometimes like, or something else?"

Yona threw me a withering look. "Like I'd tell you now, you alien!"

Deciding to tease her, I turned and sauntered away from her. "Don't expect a lot from me then," I warned her over my shoulder.

"I would never," Yona returned with a mocking scowl.

Throwing her a quick glance, I noticed the smile that played along her lips before she tugged at my sleeve.

A grin spread across my face. "You have something you want to say?"

She glared at the ground, voice silent but her grip on me was still firm.

I pressed. "Hm?"

Those eyes shook me when they locked onto mine. Determination found in her gaze burned me alive. "Yona. Like. James."

I beckoned Yona closer, gathering her up in my arms until she was staring up at me. Once she was near enough, my hand on her cheek kept her attention on me. "Hey...?"

"What is it?" Yona asked with a sigh.

Now that that she was near enough to me, I confessed in a loud, Tarzan-like voice. "James. Love. Yona."

Yona blinked for a moment, body stiffening at my words before regaining some composure.

"Yo...u. What?"

"...You may say that we don't understand each other, that we aren't right for each other, but..."

Cupping the side of her face with one of my hands, I lifted her chin in order the take in the view. Her gaze met mine, that face of hers so close I could see the different layers of gray swirling around. Like an ocean churning, speared with jagged silver and glimmering stones.

"I can practically feel your heart pounding right now. And I'm saying that I love you," I finished as I grazed a thumb against her lower lip. Then, brushing hair back from the side of her face, I claimed those soft lips.

Silence ensued when we separated. "It didn't look like you minded that," I commented.

Briefly, she appeared to try protesting but resigned mid-effort. "I...I don't. I don't mind it, James." A sigh escaped. "I just...don't know what to do with what I'm feeling. About us or any of it, really."

"Why does it has to be planned out?" I asked because what part of any of our relationship _had_ been planned. None of it, really. "I'm not telling you to love me back right now, you know."

"Are you sure you want someone like me?"

"Yes, of course I do." I didn't hesitant for even a moment. "You're a yolk or whatever after all."

Without warning she reached out and grabbed hold of me, tugging me into her arms. Shaking her head, she laughed. "Idiot..."

"No no no..." I held her arms firmly to separate us for a moment, and pointed to myself. Keeping my eyes wide in mock innocence, I tried to coax another smile onto her face. "...I'm James."

Yona calmly blinked at me.

"Yona..." I pointed to her before pointing to myself. "James."

Her eyes shone bright as her smile grew warmer. "Shut it, you alien. What am I to do with you?"

I gave her a soft pat on the head, purposefully messing up her hair. "Just keep liking me, princess. I'll get you to fall for me, like I said I'm a patient man."

Suddenly Yona's eyes took on a thirsty look and after one glance at my lips, my heart tightened.

Grinning as an idea popped into my head, I grabbed her hand to pull her into the secluded gardens. Once we were not within eyesight on anyone, or even the risk of bystanders, I carefully pushed her onto the grass.

She held out for a long moment before breathing out a raspy, "J-James."

I inched closer to her, making her sweat nervously as my body towered over hers. "Tell me what you want, Yona."

When my arms caged her, she released a cute yelp. "D-don't come any closer," Yona cautioned while extending her foot out as though to push me away. "Not so close. Please."

With a devilish grin, I grabbed the ankle that was kicking out at me and wiggled her pinky and big toes with my other hand.

"You're not acting like much of a Prince, Mr. Potter." She laughed as I tickled her foot, her breath rasped from overuse.

"I did warn you before I'm not much of a prince, didn't I?" My hand on her ankle inched up her calf slowly traveling up to the back of her knee. Her kimono bunched up at my touch, until she noticed and actually kicked me.

"James Potter," she hissed, hand tugging down her kimono as she panted. "Stay back now, like a good perverted alien."

As I crawled back towards her with a smirk, her eyes widened. "That's close enough. James, not here." My hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over her lips once and the woman nipped the finger as a warning. "That's close enough."

"Want to see what could happen?" I teased, eyes on her lips. Transfixed, I was powerless to resist, let alone contemplate the predicament I was placing us in.

"J-James..."

Her stammer was cute, and the blush brightening on her cheeks was just too much. Before she could think to object, I leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was sudden, our lips pressed firmly.

When I pulled away she seemed a little daze, but not upset. I cradled her face in one hand and held her hands with my other.

Forgetting to be gentle, I grabbed her chin to draw her to me while my other arm circled her waist. My lips crashed into hers, desperate and demanding as my tongue invaded her mouth. Devouring her on a deep but effective kiss.

What I didn't expect was for her to turn the tables on me, push me backwards and mount on top of me. Yona was straddling me, and the sight was stunning.

And then she wiggled in my lap, her lips and teeth on the side of my neck. The actions urged me on.

"Bloody hell," I swore through a catch of breath. "Are you trying to tease me?"

Yona pressed closer to me, her hips wigged so slightly that it was discrete. Abet effective. It felt so good that the pressing need between my legs ached and gasped for attention. More attention. "Less talk, yeah?"

The air was knocked out of me. Godric, did my erection agree with her.

My grip tightened on her hips, pressing her closer to me, grinding my arousal against her despite my better judgement. Fuckin hell, I was not being a gentleman. It felt good. It felt way too good.

Sighing with restraint, I let my palms drop to her hips, gripping her as my thumbs made soothing circles at her sides.

"Ah hell," I cursed through clenched teeth. It took everything in me to extract her from me, but somehow I managed. Keeping her near my lap, I picked her up and moved her back so that she was sitting against my thighs. Her arms fell as my arms caged around her shoulders, my lips pressing a kiss to her forehead.

My breath flew away from me, and with it, my resolve.

Her breath came fast when she whispered, "You really are a perverted space alien." Her forehead fell gently against mine.

I laughed, because let's face it, she was right. "And you're not a little perverted yourself?"

Yona's face drained, her affect blanking before twisting in defense. "Screw you," she groaned, pushing away and attempting to crawl backwards.

"Wasn't that what you were just aiming for?" I said tersely, trying to rein in some calm as my hands refused to release her. "And I wanted to, princess... I'm still waiting even now."

Yona froze, tilting her face to lock eyes with me. "Why did you stop then?"

"Because I'm not the type that has a voyeurism, shagging outdoors kind of fetish." I groaned. _Maybe I should start._

She laughed with a blush covering her cheeks. "You have a point. I wasn't thinking clearly either." We sat next to each other, her arm pressed against mine as we calmed down.

For a long time, we sat there to just exist, the shadows deepening outside until the window was cloaked in dark.

Reaching out she wrapped her arms around my waist, her fingers clung to the back of my dress clothes.

"We shouldn't stay here," I cautioned, eyes appraising the empty gardens.

"Yeah, you're right." She laid her cheek against my chest, unsettling me as she listened to it's pounding. One quick nuzzle at her throat, and I picked us up off the ground.

"Shall we get out of here?" I asked with a mischievous grin and offered my hand to her.

One of her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Do you mean leave the party? Won't that cause a big fuss?"

"Sure. But it's a prince's job to protect the princess," I said causally with a shrug of my shoulders.

A small smile graced her lips. "Let's do it," she said, determination gleaming in her eyes.

 **XXX**

It didn't take long for that beautiful look in her eyes to change.

"You want me to do what now?" Yona questioned my sanity.

"Follow after me as I climb this wall to escape the evil fortress," I answered helpfully, like it was the simplest solution to our problem: a discrete escape. "Come now princess, we're going to jump over the fence."

Her eyes clouded with skepticism and disbelief, like she just witnessed a talking ham sandwich. And I was the talking ham sandwich.

Reading into the hesitation of the woman who once was drunk sitting on a wall, I didn't quite see what the issue was and climbed over first.

"Come on. I've got you," I insisted.

"You've lost your damn mind," she said simply, but there was amusement in her eyes.

"Says the woman who once read out her grocery list on top of a wall while smashed."

Her glare was a force to be reckoned with, but I smiled just the same.

"You better not let me fall," Yona grumbled on. "I cannot believe I'm about to scale a fence and jump over dressing in a kimono."

"Any day now, princess." My tease earned another deserved glare. Entrusting my fate to this small woman not crushing me, I prepared to catch her.

When I did, I smirked. "Hey. Your face is turning red again."

She scowled, her hands slapping to her cheeks to hide her embarrassment. "You're crazy. And James..."

"Yes princess?" As I asked, her eyes were intense and focused and, I'd never seen such beautiful eyes.

"Let's go home." At her request, I held her right hand and pressed a kiss upon each fingertip.

"As you wish." My heart always seemed to pound the most when we were together.

 **A/N:**

Goodness, I enjoy writing James...Swooon.

Thank you everyone for liking and reviewing. If you haven't seen that I changed the last chapter, please see it but I definitely will go back to it until I'm satisfied with it.

I think I'll write a FreddiexCharles part soon, but since they're not mains I've been hesitant.

Anyways! How did you like the Tarzan references? What do you think so far? Any suggestions for fairytales next chapter?


	18. Chapter 18: Between Love and Hellfire

I do not own Harry Potter or the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Thank you all for reviewing, reading and just being all around amazing!

Enjoy!

 **Chapter 18: Between Love and Hellfire**

 **Yona's POV** :

Checking behind us, James still had a firm grip on my hand as we shuffled down another deserted street. Every once in a while he would squeeze my fingers as he smirked brightly at me—as though to soothe me.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Of course," he said brightly, but his avoidance of my eyes had me squinting skeptically. "This way."

"Hmmm." I muttered while pausing to look for a street sign, which caused my hand to slip from his grasp. I gestured around the illuminated park across the street from us. It was one that didn't seem familiar, but it was also shrouded in shadow. "We're lost, aren't we?"

James stopped his confident stride, his shoulders slumped sheepishly. He turned around and pinched two fingers to demonstrate as he talked. "Perhaps...a tad?"

Laughing, I continued to walk but then stepped on the hem of my kimono. _Damn, this is going to hurt._

I thought as my body teetered forward and braced for impact.

But it never came.

James wrapped an arm around my waist, stopped me before I could fall, and my body sagged against him in relief. Hearing a faint clatter, one of my shoes had soared down the sidewalk and onto the street.

"Phew. Thank you so much."

He shrugged. "Don't mention it. I'm glad I caught you in time. Here...wait a second while I retrieve it."

Like the gentleman that he always seemed to be, James picked up the shoe, bent down in front of me, and carefully slid it onto my foot. All the while, my heart raced.

Then my gaze snagged on a nearby street sign. _Wait, why are we all the way out here?_

"Is something wrong?"

I turned to James while shaking my head. "Not exactly. But I know where we are. We're nearby Luna's house, so I could pick up Mikasa and bring her back home. Would you mind that at all?"

"I don't mind." He shrugged, but then a look of confusion graced his handsome face. "You know I never made the connection, but do you mean Luna Lovegood-Scamander?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She's been a big help offering to watch Mikasa and she supervised visits between Tora and Mikasa."

James still looked puzzled. "How did you come to know her?"

"I'm good friends with her sons. Lorcan more so than Lysander, but still friendly. I'd always sit with him at Hufflepuff stuff and for classes, and then we'd sneak up on Charles at the Slytherin table. Char and I even went on a few nature exhibitions with the Scamanders."

"Huh." James said, ruffling the back of his hair in thought. "Small world. Lorcan and my cousin Louis are good friends, so it's so strange I'd never seen you around."

"Not really," I replied with a shake of my head. "I kind of avoided your family to be honest."

"Why?"

"Louis wasn't a fan of Char. How did he once put it?" I thought back to our days at Hogwarts while my lips pursed. "The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.' It was quite a poetic way to say his loyalty is with the Weasley's, despite the fact that Char never asked him to trust the Yaxley family anyways."

"Merlin," James sighed. "Sorry."

I put up my hands to wave away his concern. "Nothing to worry about. We just steered clear of any unnecessary confrontation. Then again..."

"What?" His frown deepened as we turned up the driveway of Luna's house. "Did my family do something?"

Bemused by his resigned expression, my eyes followed his movements before shaking my head. "Not exactly. But, come to think of it, Tora had always treated Char differently back then, too."

"What do you mean by differently?"

He asked the question as we reached the front door of the Scamander residence, and I exhaled softly before answering. "Tora was charming for the most part during the first bit of our relationship, and his presence exuded warmth but... He was always cold towards Charles. Like wouldn't look at him, talk to him, and got irritated when I'd talk about him."

"Maybe he was jealous?"

Hmmm; yes, Tora was jealous but it was more than that. "Jealous and possessive. He was always insistent on me only looking at him."

James' gaze flicked to the front door. "Did he get that way about Lorcan? Jealous and possessive."

"Not really," I denied, recalling their interactions together. "But Lorcan was always more reserved and our relationship wasn't as close. He wasn't the one I ran to with my problems, you know?"

James nodded in understanding. "Charles was and is your best friend."

"Yes." I smiled up at him, feeling closer to him after our conversation. He wanted to know more about me and I was curious to find out more about him.

"Ja—" I began, but was cut off by a light flicking on and the front door creaking open. Luna's pale face peeked out at us, a gentle look of surprise overtaking her expression.

"Yona... James Potter. I thought I heard whispers, though I suspected it was nargles." She opened the door wider and, as she beckoned us inside, the sleeves of her constellation nightdress billowed out around her arms like she was holding scarves.

"I apologize for showing up so late, but we left the event earlier than anticipated. So, I figured I'd take Mikasa home and give you a break from always babysitting for me." I bowed respectfully towards her, eternally grateful for her relentless kindness.

"I don't mind it, Yona. She's a sweet one, your girl, and loves pudding. My mum always said treasure the sweet and nice ones, especially friends." Finishing her words, Luna patted my head approvingly. "Mikasa's already asleep, so you can head on up to get her things if you'd like."

Stealing a quick at the staircase, I returned my gaze to James and then Luna.

Luna noticed the shared look between us and giggled. "My dear, I promise not to bite him nor will I allow the nargles to have a nibble."

After locking eyes with James, he nodded encouragingly as well.

"I'll be right back," I muttered with a smile and rushed quietly up the stairs. True to my word, I gathered Mikasa's bag and toys in record time and walked back down the stairs only to find the room empty.

But there were hushed voices coming from the dinning room. And I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop...

"I see that Harry Potter has taught you to be just as kind as him." She nodded happily. "And what is it that you like about that girl?" Luna asked softly.

James sighed, and then began to speak slowly, his words halting. "No matter how rough the situation gets, she takes everything head on. She always focuses on doing her best regardless of how it makes herself look. She's selfless and self-sacrificial when it comes to other people."

He paused, as though choosing his next words with care. "It's something I've always respected about her. And nothing anyone says or does will ever make me give up on her."

"Are you stubborn because she was a challenge?"

James shook his head. "No...well, maybe a bit a first, but that was because _she_ challenged _me_."

I peeked at James and realized that he was frowning, his eyes focused on the floor. In my heart, I wondered if he was embarrassed to hear those words out loud.

Luna nodded, considering his words. "Love and affections for another can be like a tree; don't you think? It grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart, even in times of ruin. But the inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable" (Victor Hugo, 1831).

James merely stared at her, cheeks slightly aflame.

Luna smiled suddenly, that serene curve of her lips broke the serious mood. "I'm just relieved to to know that Yona has someone that truly cares for her and Mikasa. Because love and lusting obsession are not the same."

At her words, I realized something. Maybe I had been mistaken all this time... Why didn't I realize how many people around me are prepared to support me?

"Luna—" The door creaked as I opened it, masking the break in my voice. After walking to her, I reached out and took her hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "Thank you. Thank you so much for looking out for me...even though I'm not your family."

Luna gazed at me with that gentle, dreamy smile yet remained quiet.

A light knock against the wall interrupted our conversation. A second later, Mikasa revealed herself while rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"Moom!" She launched herself at me the moment she saw me and then grinned at James. "And Daaa!"

"I'll go get Mikasa a drink before you head out." After glancing at the exchange, Luna turned to look at me and smiled again. "And you always have a place here. I knew that the moment my son brought you and Charles over all those years ago."

Luna turned and followed a tugging Mikasa out of the room. The door shut behind them, leaving me and James alone.

Knowing what I know now, about what James had confessed moments ago, made me feel almost shy.

"Why the face?" James teased, his feet took a step towards me.

"Well—I...you see..." I reached up to touch my cheeks, my heart feared they were burning hot. "I think I might have a fever."

"Is that so?" James sighed and reached out towards me, his fingers covering mine on my cheeks. "You don't feel very warm. Trust me?"

I don't know why those words always invoke feelings of safety and certainty.

"I do." My head nodded slowly as I glanced up at him, only to find him smirking at me. "Just nervous."

"You're always so quick to worry about others.."

I chewed my lip for a moment, considering his words. _Do I really_?

Pressing my lips together, I wasn't sure how to respond, and James leaned closer as he intently studied my expression.

"I didn't say that to make you feel lesser or bad, you know?" He smiled gently. "Anyways, it's not too much of surprise with the way this have been between us. It's okay to be nervous and hesitant." He gestured between us.

"But anytime you get worried, I'll be here to reassure you." James slid his fingertips under my chin, gently lifting my face towards him.

His familiar warmth mingled with mine for a moment before he kissed my temple.

We could work hard at this, I ruefully decided. Together maybe we could get this sorted out and make this work out between us. I only had to place my trust in him.

However, there was something we had to discuss to help move things along. Mikasa.

As Luna sent us off with a wave of her hand, James offered to carry Mikasa home. With a grateful sigh, I consented and thanked him while wondering for all the world where this man had come from. Not all men, Potter or not, were like this.

So, I gathered my courage and stepped forward, walking down the street. "I would like to talk to you about what Mikasa has been calling you."

"Oh." He paused, sending a worried glance at Mikasa's sleeping form. She was nestled against his chest, her hand grasping the fabric of his jacket as she breathed quietly. Out like a light; the girl could sleep anywhere but I couldn't deny the adorable image of the two of them.

With sudden fascination, I realized that he'd earned my trust with her. "She's been calling you daddy."

He stiffened. "She has. I'm sorry for not mentioning that sooner. Does that bother you?"

I blinked at him, a stunned feeling entering every fiber of my being until I felt electrocuted. "I really think that I should be asking _you_ that." Any other man would be running for the hills in this predicament; right?

He looked confused at my words. "What? Why?"

"She called you her dad. Doesn't that make you—I don't know—a little uncomfortable?" The pressure of that title can be immense. I mean, come on!

"Only if it makes you uncomfortable. The way I look at it is if she feels I'm important to her, she can call me King Cabbage Roll and I won't be weird about it."

Mouth open, I gaped at him like I was trying to catch flies in my trap. "Are you actually an alien? You have to be a space alien." One of my hands ran over my face, rubbing around my lips and nose to wake me up.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

I peeked up at him through my splayed fingers. "That you're an alien?"

James merely rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "No. That she called me that. And the fact that I'm not actually her father is something that I'm aware of, so please don't think that I'm taking the subject lightly. Does it make you uncomfortable, though? Because if it does, we can tell her to stop calling me Prince Daa."

"To be honest, I don't know what to think about it right now. I saw this conversation going a lot differently." I'd imagined that it made you feel weird and we'd tell her to stop. Instead, James had batted the ball into my court.

"It doesn't have to be decided right now, you know." He said easily. "Just let me know the choice. It's not like I'm forcing her call me it."

Swallowing thickly, I felt an odd ache in my heart. "Thank you."

James stopped at last and turned towards me,reaching up to stroke my cheek with fingers that felt achingly warm against the chill of the night.

A few heart-pounding moments later, my gaze slid back to Mikasa. "I don't think she'll wake up so we can disapparate the rest of the way."

He nodded quietly and moved close to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders before we apparated. When we landed, our feet swayed outside the doorstep of my apartment.

After unlocking the door and taking off shoes, I gathered my daughter in my arms. "I'm going to tuck her in. Do you want to meet me in my room?"

"Sure."

After putting Mikasa to bed, I returned to my room and James looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of my desk.

"I do have a sofa, you know?" I gestured to the item in question.

He smiled with amusement, saying nothing.

"Perhaps not then." I shut the door behind me, still thinking about everything that had transpired today.

I walked across to the sofa and patted the seat next to me, gesturing for James to join me. "Hey, James...?"

As he sat next to me, I felt his gaze searching my face. "What's on your mind, princess?"

"I want to try." My resolve was iron clad inside me, and I sat up straight to strengthen my confidence.

I met James' eyes directly, waiting for his response, and at long last he smiled gently.

"Try? You're going to have to give me a little bit more to work with." Those eyes were as patient and understanding as always.

"I would like to try dating you."

His grin broadened. "You're too adorable for words."

Sighing in relief, I smiled brightly up at him and he leaned towards me. "If that's the case—"

"Let me finish." His index finger pressed against my lips. After taking his hand away from my lips, his eyes locked on mine as he knelt down on one knee.

Butterflies burst into nervous flight within my stomach at the action. "James? What are—"

"Shhh." James waved his hand for silence, a teasing smile quirking up his mouth. "Since you have officially decided to choose me as your prince, princess—"

Exasperated, I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. "Of all the nonsensical—"

James held up a hand, pretending to look perturbed. "Hush to interrupting-beautiful-princess," he demanded with a flourish of his hand. "Now where was I? Oh yes, I'd like to make a personal vow of my own for you today."

The seriousness in his voice, and aching gentleness, knocked the breath out of me. "A-A vow?" My voice sounded stunned.

James ignored my interruption and took my hand, his expression earnest. He held my hand between his own carefully, like he was about to make a grand announcement.

 _What is this?_ The room fell into silence, sharing my befuddlement _._

A few moments passed and I felt panicky, but James took a careful breath before I squirmed. When he began to speak, his voice was clear. "I would be honored to date you, Yona."

I released a shaky breath, relieved it wasn't anything serious. "The hell? You alien! Why did you get me all stressed out just for that?"

Rising from his place on the floor, James placed a hand on my face and drew his thumb down my cheek in a slow caress. My eyes fluttered shut again, needing him desperately, and his lips felt like warm flower petals upon mine.

Closing my eyes as I kissed him back, a sense of determination filled me. And then I felt irked, a weak echo of the pain and disappointment that I'd felt before. "A vow," I exclaimed, feathers clearly ruffled as I pushed at his chest. "Idiot space alien. You nearly gave me a stroke."

"I haven't told you it yet," he cheerfully pointed out.

"James..."

My voice was hoarse as I whispered his name, burying my head in his chest.

James placed a soft kiss against the top of my head, hugging me tightly against him. Then he loosened his grip and lowered his head to catch my gaze.

"Look at me, princess." Caught in his intense hazel eyes, every fiber of my being sang.

As I looked up at him, he reached up to gently cup my cheek. We stared into each other's eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice was serious.

"I will never hurt or harm you, no matter what happens. I could never stand to hurt you, Yona."

My eyes filled with tears and James smiled gently down at me. Joy burst in my heart, invading every nook and cranny.

"You're a very important person to me, Yona." The whispered words were low and husky, and he leaned over to kiss me gently on the forehead.

A moment later he lifted me into the air, his arms warm and sure around me.

"James!" I laughed as he carried me across to the bed and set me down on it.

"I insisted on escorting you to your bed; did you notice?" James grinned down at me, as if guessing what I was thinking. He leaned close and whispered in my ear, his voice husky and inviting. "This reminds me of the first time we slept in your bed together and you stripped your shirt off in your sleep."

His tone was the most suggestive it had ever been, but also teasing. _Why did he have to bring that up?_

"Perverted alien." I turned my face away, too embarrassed to admit it.

James stared down at me and chuckled, his fingers stroking and twirling a lock of my hair. "But I'm yours, right?"

"Well..." I bluffed consideration.

Suddenly he reached out, placing a finger to my lips again to hush me. "I do believe your times up now, princess. Even if you ask me to leave now, I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

I wanted James, and I wanted to accept all of him completely. So I pulled him in close, making my intentions crystal clear.

"Yona?" After searching my face, James smiled and leaned forward to nibble my earlobe. And my pulse quickened as his hand ran up my thigh, making my body crave the teasing circles he awarded my skin.

James leaned in and began kissing my neck, the kisses getting more urgent and heated as his mouth touched my skin. When he began to suck the curve of my neck, I gasped and released an embarrassing moan at the intensity.

Overcome with passion, I pushed my body closer to him and tasted the sensitive skin of his neck. In his ear I whispered, "My alien prince. Mine alone," before we fell into each other.

 **Tora's POV:**

"How's your girl and little one doing, Mr. Shacklebolt?"

Burying the annoyance I felt at the question, a smile spread itself across my lips at the woman poking her head into my office.

"Oh l, quite well! Yona's such a talented artist that she's advertising the newest set of brooms and merchandise for the Magpies."

"Oh that new line of merch with James Potter on the cover? That's right... She does all her own drawing and writing that features the Potter Prince. She always does a fine such a fine job working for Madam Patil—oh, Yona's a graphic designer, right?"

"Yes," was my forced reply, as my teeth gritted in a smile. It was always a kick in the pants to have her drawing and writing about that clod. And an abomination to see the two of them dancing together; was that a random occurrence? A source informed me that a man often called Yona "princess" lately, but they'd been unable to identify him. The idiots.

A rush of fury escaped its tight coil and the sound of my fist rapping against the mahogany desk echoed loudly throughout the room.

"M-Mr. Shacklebolt?" The woman asked, clearly alarmed.

A slow, innocent smile spread across my face at the tick of fear in the woman's expression. "Can I confess something to you, Maria?" The tone of my voice was charming with a spike of sultry that made her dark eyes widened greedily.

"Of course, sir."

Glancing sullenly at the statue of the lady of Justice—which was apparently an American icon of sorts—I tipped a scale with the tip of my finger. The lusty look followed the movement of my right hand as it suggestively caressed the blindfolded statue.

"Shut the door and lock it," I demanded a bit too harshly because she jolted, but I smoothed it over with a reassuring grin. "Please?"

Quietly she obeyed my request.

Moments ago this woman had been asking about the wellbeing of loved ones and now she was thirsting to trade places with a statue. It was shameful, yet also useful.

"I'm a bit melancholy after a tiff with Yona." As I said the words, the vision of Yona dancing—crimson hair like wildfire—invaded my mind. Those smoldering eyes taunting me; her fire searing my flesh while scorching my very soul. "You know how I am a proud father and want to justly provide for my family, but Yona is stubborn..."

I wanted her to be mine and mine alone. To taste that fire forever, even if it were to sever my tastebuds, was always my determination. My pyre, if she willed it, because the love living in my heart is my most grievous fault.

But it's not all my fault... Yona set this flame with the simplest incantation. We'd even had a child together, a flawed girl but one that I'd given her.

"Mea culpa," I sighed in inanition. Through my fault...

"Sir?" Maria's voice was soft, inviting. The touch of her hand against my skin even more so. "Do you need cheered up?"

For a moment all I did was stare intently at the hand grasping mine, and then I smiled into her pleading eyes. "Do you think it's my fault?" I held her fingers gently, bringing the knuckle of her ring finger to my lips as I implored.

She shook her head forcefully, looking all the world like a rag doll spun too quickly. "Not at all, sir.

"Hmmm," I replied thoughtfully, agreeing as I placed another kiss. "Now...How shall you cheer me up, Maria?"

The daft woman in front of me eagerly gazed at me, already bending the knee to whatever request. At the though, I sighed and only felt Yona as I told Maria to get on her knees.

Using one hand to unbuckle my trousers, I fisted the woman's hair with the other and closed my eyes.

A wave of pleasure filled me as she continued to service me, but the distraction was quickly replaced by a burning desire to see Yona. To feel Yona on my skin, her mouth on me rather than another.

Instead I was left barren of any warmth since Yona had escaped. She'd slipped from my fingers like a phantom, and I don't even know where she lives now to even return her to me.

'Even her mother won't tell me where she lives now,' my mind hissed in annoyance. But I'll find her.

Images were flowing in irrational amounts at this point. But the one that always sent me over the edge was of the memory of her mouth paired with her red hair. Envisioning her on her knees, beautifully naked and looking up with dark, stormy eyes.

At the memory, my fingers grabbing roughly at the back of Maria's head, hand full of dark curls, her head bobbing back and forth at the push and pull of his rough grip.

I'll do it," I grunted as I pulled on Maria's hair to thrust into her waiting mouth harder. A little gasp was heard but I ignored it, imagining Yona's lips.

I'll find her even if I have to tear apart everything in this world to find her, and then we can be a family again. My family and no one else will ever be able to touch her.

 **A/N** :

Sooo a lot happened in this chapter and I hope it wasn't too confusing. My life has been kinda hectic lately after starting a new job, which involved a change in career decision.

Anyhoo, I think I'm going to try for shorter, more frequent chapters until reaching the end. I'd originally meant for this to be a short story.

What do you predict happening next with Yona and James?


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